ONE NORMAL DAY
by spikealicious
Summary: Takes place after First Date. Spike takes a battered and exhausted Buffy out of Sunnydale for a much needed mini-vacation away from the hellmouth. Where do they go? Why up to the mountains, to near a little town near Julian where Spike has owned a seldom
1. BAD DAY

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING, JOSS OWNS EVERYTHING, BLAHDEY, BLAH, BLAH... RATINGS: R/NC17   
  
Story starts at the end of FIRST DATE  
  
ONE NORMAL DAY  
  
CHAPTER 1 - BAD DAY  
  
"Because I'm not ready for you to not be here," she had told him.  
  
He had asked, and she had told him, to the best of her ability; God only knows, she had told him.   
  
Yet still, he pushed her, looking at her with those expectant puppy dog eyes, soon clouded over by doubt.  
  
"And the Principal?" Spike had asked. "How's he fit in?"   
  
She could see the wheels turning in that strange brain of his.  
  
What could she tell him? That Wood was possibly a man she could count on to help with the demon fighting, that he was attractive to her, sort of. But more likely, it was a case of keeping your enemies close; hers and Spike's. She'd had a very bad feeling rise in the pit of her stomach when he told her how his mother had been killed. Later, Wood had acted just a little too strange around Spike, stranger than just somebody who didn't have vampires as friends.   
  
Keep your friends close; your enemies, closer.   
  
Isn't that what she'd always done. Spike should know that, intimately.   
  
Only they weren't enemies anymore. Friends? Would she call him her friend if someone asked her? Was there a word in English that could be descriptive enough to cover all that they had been to each other; past, present; future?  
  
"How's he fit in?"   
  
Didn't Spike know that Wood would never 'fit' in? Not like he did, nowhere even close to how he 'fit' into her life now. Piece of the puzzle - hers, his.  
  
Unbelievable.  
  
Unbeleiveably that he's putting me under pressure to define all this to him, reassure him that he's needed, that he 'fits' in, belongs.  
  
Doesn't he already get that?  
  
They sat in silence on the couch, each of them only taking sidelong glances at each other.  
  
Spike had been stunned to hear what Buffy had said to him, "No, you have to stay, .... not why I need you here, ...because I'm not ready for you to not be here..."  
  
He thought he'd handled himself quite well today. What with having learned that Buffy had a date and all that, "My eyes are clear," he'd told her. Believed it himself at the moment, too. Bugger.  
  
"Why shouldn't she have a normal date, like a girl? Fellow wants to take her to a nice restaurant," he'd reasoned with himself. "Never going to work anyway; 'tween you and her, mate."  
  
However, during the time she was out, he'd nearly climbed out of his own skin in anxiety, taken to glancing at the clock, furtively, every two minutes. Where the hell was a smoke, when you needed one?   
  
He'd been all too happy to go and find her when 'the boy' found himself in a bad situation.   
  
"Oh, this is possibly the best thing I've ever had in my mouth," she'd said to the principal. He looked sideways at Buffy, hoping he hadn't just betrayed the bit of eye roll he'd just done at the memory of that statement! Best thing, indeed!  
  
If she'd had her phone with her, she could have handled it herself. He'd only gotten mostly in the way; she really didn't need him for his fighting skills these days. Then why? He looked at her again, questioningly.  
  
Buffy saw him looking at her again. ENOUGH! She had to get out of there for a while.  
  
She got up and started walked over to the weapon's chest.   
  
"Where're you going? Spike asked her.  
  
"Out. Do a little patrol," she answered, not looking at him.  
  
"I'll come along," Spike said.  
  
"NO!" Buffy said rougher than she intended, "I mean, no. You should stay; you can be on guard here. Okay?" she said, looking at him.  
  
"Sure, whatever you want, pet," Spike said, feeling a bit hurt.  
  
Buffy hurried out into the night. At least she could handle a couple of rogue demons or vamps. Couldn't handle the feelings that Spike was always bringing up in her. Not now, not with everything so uncertain. No time for that kind of thing.   
  
Would there ever be a 'time' for that sort of thing? Whatever that was. One thing she was sure of - she'd not had any time for anything remotely normal in over 7 years.   
  
And now, with The First, certainly no time for normal, now.  
  
Time.   
  
Time. Was. Running. Out.   
  
Normal.  
  
No. Time. To. Ever. Be.  
  
Be.  
  
Be. Normal.  
  
Buffy walked along, pondering the very things that she'd left the house in order to forget about. As she did, two vampires watched her from behind Spike's old crypt as she made her rounds of the cemetery.  
  
Spike paced restlessly around the house. He'd wanted to go on patrol with Buffy. He'd known what she was doing - getting away from him. Moreso than just keeping a few demons in check. What with the First in town, most the demons were keeping a low profile.   
  
"Bugger!" he said to himself, as he walked down the basement stairs. "Really should get out of this town!"  
  
Knew he wouldn't though, not if she wanted him here. Never. Even if it wound up killing him.  
  
He lay down for a few minutes, closing his eyes. Less than ten minutes later he jolted upright.   
  
"What, what is it?" Giles asked Spike sleepily, who'd shaken him awake.  
  
"You're on guard duty. Going to find Buffy; somethin's wrong, " Spike said.  
  
"She went out? Why didn't you stop her? Go with her?" Giles said, getting up off the cot in the spare bedroom Xander had erected downstairs.   
  
"You ever stop the slayer from doing just what she wanted to?" Spike asked, giving Giles a dirty look.  
  
"Don't suppose so," Giles answered.  
  
"Right, then I'm gone," Spike said, hurrying up the stairs and out the back door before Giles had pulled on his pants.  
  
Buffy hadn't seen them coming. Hadn't even sensed them until they both had jumped her from either side.   
  
The bigger vampire, brandishing a baseball bat had hit Buffy square in the head with it, as the other knocked her off her feet. She was unconscious as she hit the ground.   
  
"We got her! We got her!" the smaller vamp said with glee. "We've bagged the slayer!"  
  
"Let's get her in here," the larger vamp said, motioning over to Spike's old crypt.   
  
"Going to feed on her in there, then?" the smaller one asked, as he carried her over to the door of the crypt.  
  
"All in good time, all in good time. Feed on her for a while, but don't want to kill her. We'll have plenty of bargaining power once everyone knows we've got the slayer. Might even be a nice bounty on her head," the larger vamp said, as he relished the thoughts.   
  
Spike was running at full vampire speed as he approached the cemetery. He'd easily tracked her by scent, but even if he hadn't had that extra sense, he would have known where she was heading. She always did. His cemetery; his crypt.   
  
He slowed his run to a walk as he approached the crypt. He could hear the faint whispers of the vampires. And sense her faint heartbeat. Faint?  
  
Enraged, he threw open the doors to his old crypt, "BUFFY!" he yelled out.  
  
The larger vampire, whose back had been to Spike, turned around slowly. In his arms, was the limp body of the slayer. The vampire looked over at Spike with yellow eyes and bloody fangs.  
  
"Let her go!" Spike yelled.  
  
"Hey, don't have to shout. There's plenty slayer still left for anyone who wants some," he said to Spike, smirking.  
  
Spike tried to think quickly. He smiled at the larger vamp, "Hey mate, I've been tracking that bitch of a slayer for years. How'd you fellows bag her?"   
  
"Just did. That was the funny part, she practically walked up to us," he said, as he adjusted Buffy's body from one arm to the other, while the other vamp looked on hungrily at her neck, "she just wasn't paying attention. Simple as that!"  
  
"So you fellows decided to bring her here to my crypt?" Spike asked.  
  
"Your crypt? Hasn't been anyone here in ages!" the smaller vamp said.   
  
"Well, you're right and wrong, mate. Fact is, I did move out for a while, but I just moved back in the other day," Spike said.   
  
"That makes her my property," he continued, "and it'll also make the third slayer I killed."  
  
"You? You're the one? You're Spike?" the smaller vamp said, with admiration.  
  
"The one and only," Spike said, taking a small bow.  
  
"So what? Heard you killed your own kind now-a-days, anyway," the larger vamp said.   
  
"Yeah, I killed a few of our kind. So what? All in the plan," Spike said.  
  
"What plan is that?" the larger vamp asked.  
  
"The plan to be able to get close enough to the slayer, have her trust me, then to kill her. Nearly bloody did until you blokes showed up here tonight and stole my thunder!" Spike said.  
  
"Well, we did at that. Too bad, besides, got other uses for the slayer than just killing her. For now," the larger vamp said, leering down at Buffy's form as he licked his lips.  
  
"What might that be?" Spike said, sickened to even think where else they might be going with that line; what they would do to her if they 'held' her captive. He knew only too well.  
  
"Money, fame, prestige, leverage," the larger vamp said.  
  
"Money is it?" Spike said, relieved that was the first thing, "what if I could pay you thousands of dollars right now for the slayer, would you be interested? You could still take all the glory, too. I just want the bitch dead. But, by my hands; been waiting years for this and would like to have myself this one thing."  
  
"What's that?" the smaller vamp asked.  
  
"One. Real. Good. Day!"  
  
The vamps looked at each other.  
  
"Okay, Spike. You can have her. Just show us the money."  
  
Spike walked over to the corner of the crypt near the window and knelt down, discreetly adjusting something at his sides as he did. Taking a knife from his pocket, he scraped at the mortar from between some bricks. Soon he had dislodged the two bottom bricks. From behind them, he brought out a long, slender, tarnished lock box.*  
  
He stood up and walked over to the old table that had once held his TV. He set the box down and opened it.   
  
The vampires stood with their eyes agape as they saw the bundled money and jewels from across the room.   
  
"Reckon there's about $50,000 here. I'd say that's a pretty fair deal for one skinny little, half dead slayer, wouldn't you? Spike asked.  
  
The vamps nodded.   
  
"Put her down," Spike motioned to the top of the sarcophagus, "don't drop her either; don't want her to die before I can kill her."   
  
After doing so, the vamps walked over to where the money was as Spike circled over towards Buffy. Checking to see that she was still breathing, he walked back over towards them, as they were greedily counting the money.   
  
Spike took two stakes from either side of his pants and dispatched the shocked vampires before they knew what hit them.   
  
"Too easy." Spike said, "should've been for you too, Buffy. What happened?"  
  
He hurriedly shoved the money and jewels back in the lock box and stuck the whole thing into his inner jacket pocket. No time to re-mortar his favorite hiding place; he'd have to find another one or come back and fix this one sometime.  
  
Buffy was just coming to as Spike picked her up in his arms.  
  
"Huh? Sp...what hap..?" she said, her head pounding.  
  
"Don't worry, pet. I've got you. Spike's got you."  
  
"How?" Buffy said, trying to come conscious, but giving herself up to being carried home in Spike's strong arms.  
  
How indeed? How'd a couple of amateurs like those back there get the best of his slayer?  
  
"Just had a bad day," he answered her.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 1  
  
* Note: There is a reference to a money box that may sound familiar, but don't worry, only plagiarized a bit of a description from my own first story called SEEING YOU. Since it's mine, I'm pretty sure I can give myself permission to use it. 


	2. GOT ICE?

CHAPTER 2 - GOT ICE?  
  
"What happened?" Giles said, as he opened the door as Spike carried Buffy inside.  
  
"Got hurt. Couple of vamps jumped her down by my old crypt," Spike answered.  
  
Giles started to ask how, but seeing the look on Spike's face, decided to wait. He followed Spike up the stairs and opened Buffy's bedroom door for him.  
  
Spike laid Buffy gently on the bed, "Be right back, luv," he said, as Giles came over towards her.  
  
"Buffy?" Giles said.  
  
"Giles," Buffy answered weakly, "sorry, didn't mean to..." she grimaced in pain.  
  
"It's alright, don't talk now," he said, giving her hand a squeeze.  
  
Spike came back into the room with a bowl of warm water, washcloths, towels, and the first aid kit.  
  
"Spike," Buffy said, through half shut eyes.  
  
"It's alright, pet, Spike's here," he said, as he started to gently wash the cuts on her face.   
  
"Rupert, can you bring some ice? Buffy's got a nasty bump on the back of her head," Spike asked, "needs to get into her jammies, too. That way I can see if she's hurt anywhere else," Spike said, without embarrassment.  
  
"I should get Willow, then," Giles hurriedly said, repulsed at the idea of Spike being so familiar with Buffy as to undress her, even if they had been physical before, even if it was in the interest of dressing her wounds.  
  
"No, let Red sleep, I'll take care of it; of Buffy," Spike said, as he applied a small bandage to her forehead.  
  
Giles had been just watching the exchange between the two of them. They really did have a connection that seemed to defy any reasoning he could come up with; that he wanted to come up with. The idea of his Buffy and Spike...he just couldn't fathom it; didn't want to.  
  
"I.C.E.?" Spike repeated, staring at him, pointedly.  
  
"Oh, yes. Be right back," Giles said, leaving the room, fuming at being reduced to Spike's errand boy.  
  
Spike got up and locked the door quietly.  
  
"Let's see now about getting you out of these things," Spike said, as he gently pulled her to him, so he could remove her top.   
  
Underneath her, he saw a small patch of red. He looked on her back and saw a big ugly scrape that was oozing blood.   
  
"Let's turn you over, luv. Dr. Spike's going to see that you're all taken care of," he said, as he gently rolled Buffy onto her stomach.  
  
The scrape wasn't too deep and Spike was able to clean it and bandage her within a few minutes.  
  
"Hmmmm, if I was Buffy's jammies, where would I be?" he asked himself. From years ago, he already knew what drawer her underwear was in, but not her pajamas.  
  
He found a white flannel nightgown with little pink roses on them.  
  
"Come on luv, let's get this on you," Spike said, as he gently pulled Buffy up towards him.   
  
Buffy felt Spike lift her off the bed with his strong, sure hands. She wanted to help, but she felt like jelly on the inside and couldn't quite get a grip on what was happening, her head was dizzy and the room was spinning. The only thing she knew was that for now, she was safe, Spike had her and she was safe.  
  
Spike finished pulling the nightgown over her head and laid her back on the bed. He then undid her pants, pulled them down to remove them and to inspect her legs and hips. They were unharmed, except for a small scrape on her left knee.  
  
He sighed, then got up and unlocked the door just as Giles came back with the ice.  
  
Giles brushed off Spike's out-stretched hand as he went over to Buffy with the icebag.   
  
"Spike?" Buffy said, when he laid it on her head.  
  
"No, Giles," he replied.  
  
"Spike," Buffy said softly.  
  
"She wants you, apparently," Giles said, a bit of hurt in his voice.  
  
Spike thought of relishing the moment, knowing how much Giles disliked him, but thought better of it. He knew he'd always had Buffy's best interest at the heart of the matter. He just shrugged with a small smile.  
  
"I've got you, pet," Spike said, as he gently lifted her head, so as to put the icebag on the right spot.  
  
Spike said something to her that Giles couldn't hear.  
  
"Thank you, Giles," Buffy whispered from her bed.  
  
"You're welcome," he said, closing the bedroom door behind him.  
  
Now Spike has to tell Buffy to thank me? "This really is no good," he thought as he walked down the hall.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 2 


	3. LESSONS FROM THE PAST

CHAPTER 3 - LESSONS FROM THE PAST  
  
After Giles had left, Spike had given Buffy some aspirin and made her go to sleep with the promise that he'd stay with her. Not that she needed much convincing to go to sleep; she was hurt and exhausted, more than he'd ever seen her be.  
  
As the morning light approached, and with it, his own tiredness, Spike put an extra blanket over the window, in order to keep out the light.   
  
Spike watched Buffy as she slept, soothing her with his voice when she started having nightmares until she settled back into sleep.  
  
He watched her sleep, as his mind tried to formulate a plan; something he could do for her, to ease her burden.  
  
He remembered the lock box, still in his pocket, wishing money could make it all better, could buy happiness; at least for her. "I know, I'll bribe The First to leave us alone," he thought sarcastically to himself. "Yeah, right you wanker."  
  
He watched her sleep, realizing that he'd saved her tonight. Was that a first for him? He'd helped her before. Lots. But mostly, and particulary as of late, it had been her saving him - again and again. It scared him to know that he'd saved her, because really, it wasn't that he'd been strong, only that she'd had a moment of weakness, and for her, that could be deadly.  
  
He remembered when she'd come to him only a couple of years before, looking for answers about how he had killed the two slayers. Wanting to know what they had done wrong; wanting to know how she could learn from their mistakes.  
  
He wished he hadn't said what he had to her; imprinting on her brain forever, the truth of a slayer's short existence.  
  
"Lesson the second: ask the right questions. You want to know how I beat 'em? The question isn't 'How'd I win?' The question is 'Why'd they lose'?."  
She was weary tonight, distracted.  
"And part of you wants it... not only to stop the fear and uncertainty, but because you're just a little bit in love with it. Even you."  
Already had a taste of it. Twice.  
"Death is on your heels, baby, and sooner or later it's gonna catch you. Sooner or later, you're gonna want it. And the second- the second- that happens...You know I'll be there. I'll slip in... have myself a real good day."  
Won't be me, pet. Never. Not anymore. Not for a long time. But wouldn't take a vamp only half as good as I was to best you in your present condition. Proved that tonight.  
Not to mention The First.   
  
He wished he knew what it was she wanted from him, what she needed from him.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 3 


	4. BIG FARYL DEMONS

CHAPTER 4 - BIG FARYL DEMONS  
  
He sensed her before he felt her small hand lightly touch his fingers. He thought he'd just closed his eyes only for a few minutes while she slept, but had drifted off himself.   
  
He opened his eyes as she took her hand away.  
  
"Hey," she said softly.  
  
"Hey yourself. How you feeling?" Spike asked.   
  
"Confused. Head-achy...what happened?"  
  
"Couple of nasties jumped you down by my old place. Knocked you out," Spike said.  
  
"I don't remember," Buffy said.  
  
"Probably due to that nasty bump on your head," Spike said.  
  
Buffy raised her hand to her head, "Ouch! Must be the spot."  
  
"How did I get home?" She asked, knowing the probable answer.  
  
"I came out to find you. Something didn't feel right, so I went looking," Spike said, shrugging.  
  
"What was it? That got me?" Buffy said.  
  
"Big demons, two big Fyarl demons. Couldn't have fought them off by yourself," Spike said, trying to reassure her.  
  
Buffy looked at him, no worse for the wear. Big Fyarl demons, huh? Something didn't add up, but she didn't press him.  
  
"Thank you," she said.  
  
"For what, luv?" Spike asked.  
  
"Coming out, bringing me home, taking care of me," Buffy said, looking him in the eyes with gratitude.  
  
"Buffy," he didn't know why, all of a sudden he had a lump in his throat. "I, I'm just glad to return the favor, luv," he said, wishing his head would explode in pain, like it used to. Something concrete to concentrate on, instead of this feeling that he was missing some sort of signal she was sending.  
  
"Spike, I..." Buffy started just as the door opened.  
  
"Hey Buffy," Willow said.  
  
"Feeling better this morning?" Giles asked.  
  
"Hey Willow. Yes, better," Buffy answered both of them.  
  
"Spike, why don't you go downstairs and refill Buffy's icebag? Then you'll probably want to rest, since the sun has been up for hours now and the potentials are on their way out for some training with Xander at the gym. He rented the place for the whole day, just for them." Giles said.   
  
Spike got the distinct feeling that both Giles and Willow had orchestrated this 'takeover' of Buffy's care.  
  
Buffy quickly glanced at Spike with something like alarm in her eyes, but quickly veiled it before they could see. She nodded slightly to him.  
  
"Okay, then," Spike said as he gently lifted the water-logged icebag from the back of Buffy's head, caressing it for just a second, just so that she knew that he had.  
  
When he came back with the ice, Willow met him at the door.  
  
"Thanks, Spike, I'll give it to Buffy," she said.  
  
Spike looked at her for a couple of seconds, then shrugged and started to hand her the icebag.   
  
Just as she took it, he held her wrist lightly for a moment, motioning her out to the hall.  
  
"Don't let Giles upset Buffy by telling her every little detail about training and all that. She isn't herself right now. Wasn't herself last night," Spike said.  
  
"What do you mean?" Willow asked.  
  
"Buffy almost got killed by two junior vamps. Couldn't be much more than fledglings, yet she didn't even see them coming. Not before one of them cracked her on the head," Spike said.  
  
"That's terrible, but maybe they were really strong?" Willow asked, hopefully.  
  
"No, just average. Which is why I think Buffy's in serious shape and needs a break from the stress. I even told her they were big Faryl demons that attacked her. She doesn't remember and I didn't want to make her feel worse than she already does about getting bested last night," Spike said.  
  
"You're right Spike, she's been wound up tighter than a, than a, well, something. What with all the Potentials, and The First, and when you were killing people, then captured, then your chip going all wonky, and...oh, sorry, Spike," Willow said, seeing the pain in his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, I know, Wil, I'm a big part of her problem. Or at least I was. I intend to do everything I can to earn my keep around here. Helping Buffy, you guys, fighting evil," Spike said.  
  
"You know, I'd leave in a minute if that's what she wanted. Even asked her; suggested it, that I should leave town, get away, before... you know, The First tries to make me its bitch again. But she said no. She said I had to stay. Telling you this just in case Giles wants to know why I am sticking around. Because Buffy ordered me to," Spike said, stretching the truth a bit, but for a good purpose.  
  
"So tell Rupert that he can stop with the dirty looks and all that rot," Spike said, walking away. "And you too, Red. You and the boy."  
  
"Spike!" Willow called after him, "I don't give you dirty looks!"  
  
"No, just disparaging ones," Spike called back, over his shoulder, as he slunk off to the basement.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 4 


	5. COMFORT

CHAPTER 5 - COMFORT  
  
On his way down to the basement, Spike looked around, and not seeing anybody in the kitchen, he put the object he'd been looking for in his pocket and continued downstairs.  
  
Spike took a good look around the basement, making sure nobody else was there. He then took the object out of his pocket, "Bloody stupid things," he said as he flipped open the cell phone and dialed the number. "Clem? Spike here...yeah, I'm alright, hey listen, there's something I want you to do for me..."  
  
It would be at least 6 or 7 hours before he could do what he was planning; if she wanted to; if she trusted him.   
  
"Do you trust me?" he'd asked her last year, showing her handcuffs for their fun and games. "Never," she'd replied. Hadn't been just about that. Been about everything.  
  
Trust.  
  
He sighed, restless. Nothing for him to do except rest until then, he thought as he closed his eyes.  
Upstairs, Buffy was barely listening as Giles went on about the situation with the girls. On and on and on. She felt like she was drowning in it all. She was dizzy and she was starting to remember some things from last night. One thing she knew for certain: it hadn't been Faryl demons that had attacked her, more likely just a couple of vampires. She remembered walking near Spike's old crypt, then nothing else until she was being carried home by Spike. She realized that she had been extremely careless and had nearly paid the ultimate price. Again.  
  
She was off her game; that was for sure. Spike was off his game, too. At least, not so much last night. How were they going to fight The First like this?   
  
She knew she should care, that she should be training, but all she wanted right now was to go to Spike, talk to him, sit next to him. Didn't want to think about The First, didn't want to think of winning, losing, failing, didn't want fancy restaurant dates with someone new. Just wanted to be. Wanted to sit beside him, just be.  
  
".....think we should start that this weekend," Giles said.  
  
"Buffy? Did you hear what I just said? I think we should train the girls to use swords this weekend," Giles said, again.  
  
"Huh? Sure, whatever you think is best, Giles," Buffy said, just to shut him up.  
  
"Buffy, I understand that you were hurt last night and that Spike found you. How do you know that he didn't set it up? So that he could come to your rescue, so you'd see him as a hero?" Giles asked.  
  
"Giles!" Buffy said, exasperated. "You really don't know Spike at all anymore, or you would never even ask me that."  
  
"He's the one that saved me, didn't even know I was going out until I decided to, spur of the moment. And don't even suggest that once I was out, he found some vamp buddies to attack me, or that he did it himself. You are so wrong about this; about him, I can't even begin to explain it to you." Buffy said, wishing she didn't have to keep defending him.  
  
Giles just looked at her and shook his head.   
  
"I have to go and meet Xander at the gym. He's got to go to work and I'm going to take over training until about 6:00PM. I hate to leave you, but Willow is here," Giles said, glad to have some other topic of conversation.  
  
"That's fine Giles," Buffy said, happy to hear he wouldn't be hanging around her all day. "Willow can take care of me, of everything," she said, with a smile.  
  
"Good, fine. I'll be off then," Giles said, getting up to leave.  
  
"Just one more thing, Buffy. Don't trust him too much. Spike," Giles said, as he closed the door behind him.  
  
Trust.  
  
One little word, one world of meaning.   
  
Spike.  
  
As soon as she heard Giles leave, she called to Willow.  
  
"Hey, Buffy. What can I do for you?" Willow asked, coming into the bedroom.  
  
"Willow, my head is still sort of wonky, but I need to, want to go see Spike. Can you walk me down the stairs? Please?" she asked, eyes pleading.  
  
"Sure, Buffy. No problem," Willow said, starting to help Buffy up out of bed.  
He was only half-asleep, dreaming about it. He hadn't seen it in almost 10 years, until last summer after he'd left Sunnydale. On his way to Africa, then again, before he returned.   
  
He was now wide-awake as he sensed somebody coming down the stairs. Two people, one unsteady. He opened his eyes as Willow with her arm around Buffy, walked up to his cot.  
  
"Buffy wanted me to bring her down to talk to you," Willow said, then smiled as she turned to leave. She handed the fresh icebag.  
  
"See, Spike? No disparaging looks."  
  
"Appreciate that, Red," Spike said, "I'll try not to snark at ya in return."  
  
Laughing, she went upstairs and closed the door.  
  
"Are you feeling better, Buffy?" he asked.  
  
"Bit wobbly," she replied.   
  
She looked down at him, watching her. Waiting for a word, from her. Always waiting for her word. Except, now, she didn't have any. She looked at him lying there and she was at a loss; loss of words, loss of direction; loss of everything.  
  
He looked at her just staring at him, as if she was working something out in her mind. He knew he should get up so she could sit down, but he was frozen; watching her face as she looked at him.  
  
He wasn't good at silences, "Buffy?"   
  
"Spi...Spike," his name caught in her throat.  
  
He understood now. She was lost and looking for a safe harbor; afraid to be lost, afraid to be found.  
  
He opened up his arms to her and with a small shuddering inhale, she climbed into bed with him, burying her head in his neck, her arm over his chest, around his neck, holding onto him tightly, like he was a life raft. His arms enfolded her gently at first, as if she was a little broken bird; his little broken bird, then stronger as she clung onto him, looking for the security of his arms.   
  
He rubbed her back, murmuring soothingly to her, until she finally relaxed, exhaled as if she'd been holding her breath forever, relaxed her hold just a little. He felt her heartbeat slow, as she finally drifted off to sleep, to a rest that she'd been denied for too long. There was a lump in his throat as he held her in his arms for this first time since?   
  
Ever.  
  
She'd never let herself be held by him. Never. Never held him. Not for comfort, nor out of any sort of feelings between them. Never. Only held onto him while fucking, to forget the pain, forget the loss. Maybe this was the same, holding for comfort, only minus the fucking.   
  
But it felt different. More real. Wanted him to stay, needed him.   
  
Maybe more.  
  
He looked at the clock over the wash machine. Only another couple of hours. Then he'd ask her; when she awoke.   
  
Ask her to trust him.  
  
But for now, he would hold her in her sleep, as long as she needed, help her be at rest.  
END OF CHAPTER 5 


	6. PLANNING AHEAD

CHAPTER 6 - PLANNING AHEAD  
  
Buffy woke up slowly, between wakefulness and the edge of sleep. She felt like she'd had some sort of pleasant dream, although she couldn't quite remember it. At least it hadn't been the heart pounding nightmares, which jerked her, awake every couple of hours; ones that she'd had every night for almost five months.   
  
Slowly she became aware that she was nestled between a pillow and...Spike's neck. She felt her arms around his neck and felt both a sense of relief and also embarrassment. Embarrassment that she always sought him out for comfort of one kind or another. He deserved more. Much more.  
  
She kept seeking him out, time and time again. Why? She knew the answer, at least the part she was willing to admit to; it seemed like the only person who had the slightest idea of what she was going through was Spike. How long had it been this way? She couldn't even remember when it had become clear to her; that he and he alone understood her, knew her, cared for her, and of course, still loved her; all of her. Didn't he?  
  
She became aware that one of his arms was around her back, while the other was? She reached up and felt his hand holding the icebag on her head.  
  
Slowly she lifted her head up from his shoulder, moving her arm out from behind his neck as she did so, and looked at him.   
  
"Have you been holding that icebag on my head the whole time?" she asked, glad to have the icebag as icebreaker.  
  
"Yeah, you had quite a bump, thought it be best," he answered.   
  
She reached under the icebag, "Seems a lot smaller now. Thank you," she said, smiling a little at him.  
  
"Didn't mind," Spike said, smiling back.   
  
"You feeling better now, Buffy?"  
  
"Seem to be. I'm not dizzy anymore or wonky, so that's an improvement."  
  
"Buffy?"   
  
"What?"   
  
"Do you trust me?" Spike asked, looking serious all of a sudden.  
  
"Well, considering that I'm lying here on your bed, after all we've been through, I think you can take that as a yes," she answered, trying to fathom what he wanted from her.  
  
"Good. Then I want you to do something. For me. For you, too. Mostly for you," Spike said.  
  
Buffy had no idea where this was leading, "What?"  
  
"I want you to go away with me. Overnight," Spike said, then hurried on, "It's not far, it's a place, it's...it's a place I own, up in the mountains. About 2 hours from here."  
  
"Own?" Buffy asked, raising her eyebrows in stunned disbelief.  
  
"Yes. Own. For about 50 years. Nobody knows about it except for Clem."   
  
"Clem?" Buffy asked, absentmindedly, still not believing what she was hearing.  
  
"Buffy!"   
  
"How can I? The girls, The First..." Buffy stammered.  
  
Spike sat up, pulling her with him.  
  
"How are you going to fight right now, Buffy? You're exhausted, you're hurt. Last night you let two amateur vampires almost kill you. If I hadn't come out..." Spike said, shaking his head at the memory.  
  
"I knew it wasn't Faryl demons," Buffy said with a wry smile. "Still, it was just an off night; I, I...was thinking about something," she added lamely.  
  
"You know I'm right," Spike insisted, "you may feel better, but you still aren't in any shape to fight any nasties right now, small or large."  
  
"I know," she said quietly. "Still, Giles. Willow. Giles! Even if I wanted to go or thought that I should, Giles would have a holy cow!" Buffy said.  
  
"Oh, I see," Spike said, turning away.  
  
"Spike, don't be like that, I...I just can't."  
  
"No, you mean you won't," Spike said, turning back towards her, "I don't care if Giles doesn't like me or even hates me. I care more that you still think you can't do something for yourself; not if it will displease him. Even if he's wrong. Even if I'm right."  
  
"It's not that, I..."  
  
"It's not? Then what is it?"  
  
"What about The First? What if I'm gone and he comes or sends the Harbingers? What if he knows I'm gone?" she asked, her voice quietly pleading with him to understand.  
  
"We'll bring a cell phone," Spike said, then added, "bloody stupid things, but still, you'd be able to keep in touch."  
  
"It's two hours away, though. What if they couldn't call in time?" Buffy asked.  
  
"WILLOW!" Spike yelled.  
  
"Spike!"  
  
"What is it?" Willow asked, hurrying down the stairs.  
  
"Want to ask you something. Say Buffy was to go away for a day, for overnight," Spike started out, "do you think that it would be safe for her to do so?"  
  
"You going away, Buffy?" Willow asked, turning towards Buffy.  
  
Buffy just shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"Willow, Buffy's worried about what would happen if she was needed. I already mentioned the cell phone to her," Spike said, "anything else you can think of that might ease her mind?"  
  
"Where you going?" Willow asked Buffy.  
  
Buffy shrugged again, looking at Spike.  
  
"Can't tell you exactly, a few hours away."  
  
"You're going, too?" Willow asked, eyes getting large.  
  
"Well, yeah, that was the plan." Spike said, snarking a bit at her.  
  
"Hey! No snark, Spike," Willow said, "I just asked, didn't mean..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Could see it in your expression. Big Bad taking Buffy away," Spike said with some bitterness.  
  
"No, it's just," Willow said, "well, surprising is all. Actually, I think it's, well, romantic."  
  
"For Christ's sakes! Not talking romance here, witch! Talking Buffy needing a break from all this! You want a strong slayer or a slayer that's falling apart? When's the last time Buffy's been out of Sunnydale?" Spike asked.  
  
Buffy and Willow just looked at each other.  
  
"Buffy went to L.A. for the summer before senior year, in 1998," Willow offered.  
  
"That doesn't count. I was working," Buffy said, then added, "I haven't been out of Sunnydale overnight since then, really not since I came here."   
  
"Fuck Slayer! That's a bloody long time to have your nose to the grindstone," Spike said, then looking at her, he added softly, "and it's killing you."  
  
"Well, you kept me pretty busy when you first got here, Spike," Buffy said.  
  
"Yeah, imagine I did, but that was then and this is now," Spike answered.  
  
"Did you kiss your mother with that mouth, Spike?" Willow asked.  
  
"Yeah, but my mouth was a lot more pristine 120 years ago," he answered.  
  
"Back to the problem. Is there anything you could do to help Buffy feel she can leave Sunnyhell for an overnight?" Spike asked.  
  
"Are you going somewhere that is wired?" Willow asked.  
  
"Wired?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, wired for electricity? Computers?" Willow answered.  
  
"Well, sort of," he replied.  
  
Buffy looked at him questioningly.  
  
"No, not computers."  
  
"No phone-line?" Willow asked.  
  
"No."   
  
"How about satellite dish?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Wait, I got it!" Willow said. "Remember the spycams that Warren had all over the place to watch you last year?"   
  
Buffy and Spike just looked at each other, then at Willow nodding.  
  
"Oh, sorry. But I was thinking that we could get those here and maybe you could take Andrew's laptop, and his batteries, then you could watch the house!"  
  
"That's an idea! No wait, won't work, even if we have the batteries, still can't get on the internet," Spike said.  
  
"Wait! It will work on Buffy's cell phone. She's got wireless access to the net. You can just plug the laptop into her cell phone," Willow said, excited.  
  
Spike reached into his back pocket.  
  
"This cell phone?" he asked innocently.  
  
"Spike!" Willow and Buffy said together.  
  
"What? Had to call Clem earlier. It wasn't like I wasn't going to give it back."  
  
"Okay then, cell phone: check, remote viewing: check. What else Slayer?"  
  
"I still couldn't get back here in time if something started," Buffy said.  
  
"Well, I could give you a spell that would transport you back in a few seconds. Only I'm not positive you could work it, not being a witch and all, but it might..." Willow said. "Besides Buffy, usually when The First does something, he usually lays low for a few days or a week. At least that's been his modus operandi, since we've been aware of him." Willow said.  
  
"And Buffy, Spike is right; you need a break. You deserve a break; at least for a day or two. You haven't ever had one and you are exhausted," Willow said.  
  
"Well?" Spike asked.  
  
"Oh, and don't worry about Giles," Willow said, "I'll handle him."  
  
Spike looked at Buffy, hopefully, expectantly.  
  
He looks just like a little boy, sometimes, she thought. Giving him a little smile, "Okay. Let's go!" she said her smile increasing in size.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 6 


	7. OUTTA HERE

CHAPTER 7 -OUTTA HERE  
  
Willow went upstairs and Buffy got up off the cot to follow her.  
  
Looking back at Spike, she asked, "What should I pack? Anything special?"  
  
Spike looked at her with a raised eyebrow for half a second, then deciding against making a remark that might have her changing her mind, just said, "Bring a coat and some warm socks."  
  
"Okay, be right back," she said starting up the stairs, then stopped. "Hey, how are we getting there?"  
  
"Car," Spike said, "My old DeSoto."  
  
"Where's that at?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Well, if Clem did as I asked him to, then it's about one block from here," Spike answered.  
  
Buffy stared at him.  
  
"How did you know I'd go?" she asked.  
  
"I didn't pet, just wanted to be prepared in case you did, okay? Go pack now, so we can get out of here before anyone else comes home and we have to explain or I get staked!" Spike said.  
  
"Okay, going to pack now," Buffy said, heading upstairs for real this time.  
  
Once upstairs, Buffy went about putting some stuff into a small suitcase. Sweaters, check. Jeans, check. Toiletries and makeup, check. Shoes, check. Undies, check. Nightgown, hmmm, shorty or longy, flannel or skimpy? Buffy paused, well, he did say it wasn't about romance, she thought, not without some sadness and regret. Moments from the past year flitted through her brain, but she pushed them aside. Doesn't really matter then, does it? Okay, variety of nightgowns just because...I don't know what I'll want to wear; er, what the temperature will be, check.  
  
Buffy met Spike in the kitchen with suitcase in hand. Spike only had a small duffel bag and was carrying his blanket.  
  
"Well, we're off, I guess," she said to Willow. "I'll call you when we get there."  
  
"Have a good time you guys!" Willow said walking them to the door.   
  
It was 4:00PM, the sun was low in the sky, but Spike still needed to protect himself, so he put the blanket over his head, after taking Buffy's suitcase from her.  
  
"We're off," he said, "thanks Wil, for looking after things."  
  
"No problem, Spike," she replied, as they walked down the sidewalk, "Oh, and by the way, I still think it's ROMANTIC," she said, laughing as she closed the back door.  
  
A block later they came to the only car on Revello drive with the windows almost completely blacked out. The DeSoto. They got in.  
  
Buffy turned to Spike, "Where have you been keeping this? I didn't even think you still had it," she said.  
  
"Storing it with some friendly sorts. Friends of Clem," Spike answered.  
  
"You always have had this whole secret life in this other world, that I can only begin to guess at, haven't you?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Well, pet, yeah. I mean, most of my type are just in this other world, as you put it. Most of my type don't spend so much time with your type, unless it's to eat them," Spike said, then rolled his eyes.  
  
Buffy giggled, "Nevermind! Just drive!" she said, then in an almost desperate whisper, "take me out of Sunnydale, please, Spike."   
  
"The lady's wish is my command!" he replied, as he put the car into first gear and they pulled out into the road.  
  
They drove in amiable silence for about half an hour until Spike turned the DeSoto onto I 15, South.   
  
"Where exactly are we going," Buffy asked.   
  
"Up near Cleveland National Forest, right on the outskirts of it, really. Up around 5,000 feet, highest point in San Diego County. Get off near Santa Ysabel, then, well, it's between there and a little berg called Julian," Spike answered.  
  
"Oh," Buffy replied, simply.  
  
They drove along for another hour in comfortable silence until Spike turned onto Hwy. 79, South.  
  
"Think I heard of Julian. Do they grow apples there?" Buffy asked, "or is that somewhere else? Isn't Julian an old goldrush town?"  
  
"Slayer! Good to know that the California educational system is working! Yeah, apples galore. Best apple growing in all of California! The really cool nights this time of year help them grow. Even snows sometimes. As good as any Washington or Michigan apples." Spike said.  
  
"Julian was also one of the first goldrush towns in California; late 1860's. People think that the goldrush took place mostly in Northern California, but that happened later. Julian was just about first. After the prospectors came and left, Julian was mostly a ghost town. Then around 1930's or so, some investors saw an opportunity to make a little money on it's former image; started making it into a little get-a-way for Southern Californians wanting to soak in some history and get away from the everyday hubbub. So now it has lots of little B&B's with cute little names, like Prospector's Inn, Miner's Gold, etc. Also, has lots of cute little restaurants, antique shops, you know, your little tourist town. I don't say typical, because, really, it has kept a lot of it's charm and it usually isn't overrun with too many tourists, so it's - well, it's nice."   
  
"Okay, Mr. Factoid," Buffy said laughing.   
  
Spike always knew lots of trivia about lots of things. Guess when you're as old as Spike...she didn't know why, but all of a sudden that thought made her sad. The thought of Spike eternally looking so young, so fit, so...so beautiful! She gave him a sidelong glance. Yep, no mistaken, he definitely was beautiful. Beautiful, dangerous, old, loyal; all those things rolled into one soulful vampire that was taking her away on the only 'vacation' she could think of ever having had. In all those years, she wondered, had Spike ever been happy? Loved? She knew the answer and she swallowed a lump in her throat.   
  
Clearing the lump from her throat, she asked him, "When will we be there?"  
  
"About an hour," he answered.  
  
"Okay," Buffy said, clearing her ears, as she felt the pressure from the increasing elevation. She lay her head back and closed her eyes.  
  
Spike looked sideways at Buffy. She was so young, yet the things she'd had to do, had to learn about in so short of time, had made her much older than her counterparts. Buffy...he didn't know why, but all of a sudden that thought made him sad. The thought of Buffy having to always be on guard, be at the ready...and now...be at war. He looked at her again. She was so beautiful, but looked so tired. Besides, when she was a little girl, he wondered, had she ever been happy? Since her mother died, had she ever felt loved? He knew the answer and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew the truth, even though he had loved her, she hadn't allowed herself to feel it; not from him, as he had been, what he was.  
  
He angrily pushed those thoughts away; angry at himself and concentrated on the road, vowing that he would give her the best, relaxing time he could, with none of his bullshit. This weekend, or overnight was for her and her alone.  
"She what?" Giles yelled at Willow, "you let her go, with, with, SPIKE? Are you quite mad?" he went on.  
  
"Listen, Giles, Buffy is going to be fine. I already told you that she'll be checking in regularly and I'm sure she'll be safe with Spike," Willow answered.  
  
"Okay with Spike? You have gone mad; you and Buffy, both? You've both forgotten about what he is, what he's done," Giles said, still yelling.  
  
"No, we haven't. In fact, if I remember correctly, seems that I had an episode of being evil myself, albeit, a much shorter one. Still, don't remember Spike ever wanting to destroy the world, as a matter of fact, he saved it when he went against Angel with Buffy a few years back," she said, losing patience.  
  
"I don't trust Spike. I never will. He always just wants what he wants. I know, he's gone and gotten a soul, so now he's what? A wonderful person? He just did it to make Buffy forgive him, to try to win her over, and from what I've seen, it seems to be working!" Giles said, his face red with anger.  
  
Willow looked at him for maybe the first time and saw a frustrated, older man, who after dedicating himself to the cause was at the end of his rope and not seeing anything clearly, anymore.  
  
"So what? So what if he did do it for Buffy? I think he did it for himself, as well. But if he did do it for Buffy, what does that say about him? He's a vampire, Giles! What other vampire has ever, ever done this? Angel didn't. He was cursed and when he lost his soul again, he sure didn't want it back. When he's soulless and evil, he's all too happy to be that way. Know what else?" Willow said, on a roll now, "if Angel had a chip shoved up his brain, I think he would've found a way, or found someone else to kill Buffy. Spike could have. Spike didn't! So what if he's crazy in love and would do anything for her? Even back off and not pursue her? Which, by the way, is what he's been doing in my opinion. Again, I say so what? I, I think it's..." Willow didn't finish.  
  
"Think it's what? Ok? Romantic? You girls and your foolish notions!" Giles said.  
  
"Didn't think it was so foolish when it was Jenny, did you Giles?" Willow asked, knowing she was hitting a sore spot.  
  
"Don't you ever compare Jenny to that, that thing!" Giles spat out.  
  
"I don't think Spike is a thing, and Jenny wasn't so lily pure, herself!" Willow said.  
  
"I'm warning you, Willow, you will not speak of Jenny that way!" Giles yelled.  
  
"You're warning me? Warning me? When did you become my father? Or Buffy's for that matter?" Willow asked. "I think that's the problem Giles; you still look at Buffy and me as your children. Well, look around you, Giles! We're not children anymore. Buffy, surely isn't. It's not that we don't need you anymore, but just not in the way we once did. Not even Buffy. You keep talking to her and about her like she's a child! She's not! She's a young woman and she has the right to make her own choices, even if it means going away for an overnight with Spike. It's her choice, Giles. Don't you see? Unless she really felt that it wasn't absolutely in the best interest of everyone, she wouldn't have gone."  
  
"Then why didn't' she wait until I got back to leave?" Giles asked.  
  
"Duh! She knew you'd give her a hard time or try to talk her out of it. She didn't' want to fight. She's tired Giles; she's also so exhausted she nearly got herself killed last night by a couple of junior vamps. She went away because she hasn't been away for a day of not fighting, for over 5 years! Not one, stinking day, Giles. Can you understand that? Can you?" Willow asked.  
  
Giles just shook his head, "No Willow, I'm afraid I can't, not when The First may attack anytime. I'm sorry, I think she's wrong and so are you," he said, turning to walk away.  
  
"Well, I guess you're just going to have to live with those feelings then," Willow replied, as he walked away.  
  
"Let's just hope we do live," he answered.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 7 


	8. VALENTINE'S DAY DINNER

CHAPTER 8 - VALENTINE'S DAY - DINNER   
  
Buffy had fallen asleep for the next 45 minutes. Finally she stirred, as Spike reached across her, pulling the dark black sun-blocking plastic off of the window. Buffy opened her eyes to a forest on either side of the highway.  
  
"Wow!" she said, "when did this happen?"  
  
"Oh, about 20 minutes ago," Spike answered, pulling the plastic off of the front and driver's windows.  
  
"Wish you'd woke me," Buffy said, wistfully.  
  
"Needed your sleep. Still plenty to see, lots of trees," Spike said, looking at the sign that let him know they were almost to the exit.  
  
"We'll be getting off at Santa Ysabel in about 5 minutes."  
  
"Okay," Buffy answered, then reached across the seat, putting her hand on top of his, "thank you for this."  
  
"No need, pet," Spike said, "know you needed a break, weren't' your own super slayer self..."  
  
"Shut up, Spike," Buffy said, softly, squeezing his hand a little.  
  
They came to the exit for Santa Ysabel and turned left, heading towards Julian.  
  
"Where do you, where is your...house, place?" Buffy asked, realizing how strange, how unbelievable it sounded coming off of her tongue.  
  
"A couple miles before downtown Julian," Spike answered. "You hungry, Slayer?"   
  
"Yeah, I am, I really am. I don't think I've eaten since..." she trailed off, embarrassed.  
  
"Oh," Spike said, remembering the goddamned principal feeding her 'pears soaked in brandy, with sauce.' Well, la-de-da, he fumed, 'best thing she ever had in her mouth,' hmmmpf, he fumed.  
  
"I'm sorry," Buffy said, again, touching his hand.  
  
He shook off her hand, "No need, pet. No big deal," Spike said, vowing to keep his emotions in check.  
  
Spike didn't fool her; he'd hurried upstairs as soon as he'd heard she had a date, to what? To run into her and tell her it was ok, that he didn't dream of a 'crypt for two with a white picket fence,' she smiled at the vision. Stupid date. Stupid Buffy.   
  
"Hey, how about that food?" Buffy asked, changing the subject. Well, sort of.  
  
"We'll go into Julian, there's a little restaurant right when we get to town, nice digs; food and antiques, combined; unique!"  
  
"Antique food?"  
  
"Noooo, new food, with...oh, you'll see, pet," Spike said. He wondered how many times the girl had actually been out to nice restaurants. Not as many as she should have, at her age, he guessed. Only place she wound up at was the Bronze. Though, they did have Bloomin' Onions, he mused.  
  
About 10 minutes later Spike pulled the car up to a two story white house on a corner. The old fashioned looking sign said The Rittenhouse, Restaurant & Antiques, Est. 1932.  
  
"Lot of cars," Buffy remarked.  
  
"Popular place," Spike said, turning off the window and going around to open the door for Buffy.  
  
"How do I look?" Buffy asked, "mess, huh?"  
  
"You look fine, luv, always do," Spike said, giving her his hand as he helped her out of the car.  
  
"Only you would think so, Spike," she said, shaking her head at him, blinded by her Buffy-ness, as usual.  
  
"Yeah, well...you always do, to me, pet," Spike said, with conviction, as they walked up the sidewalk to the front door.  
  
Spike opened the door for her and they walked in. The maitre'd's podium was directly in front of them. Beyond it they could see into the dining area, completely filled with very nicely dressed diners; seemingly, all couples. Alongside the inside walls near the door were padded benches; completely filled with people.   
  
A nice looking middle age man walked up to the maitre'd's station and asked Spike, "May I have your name and time of your reservation?"  
  
"Uh, reservation?" Spike stammered.  
  
"Of course, sir," said the maitre'd looking at Spike rather askance, "it's Valentine's Day! We're only seating those with reservations."  
  
"Bloody Hell!" Spike said rather loudly, causing those sitting on the benches to look at him and Buffy.  
  
"It's okay, we can go somewhere else," Buffy said, pulling at his arm.   
  
"I'm afraid you'll have the same problem at all the other restaurants, sir. They've all been booked up for weeks," said the maitre'd.  
  
Buffy watched in surprise, as all of a sudden, an older woman came from a door on the opposite side of the dining room, "Master Worthington, is that you?" she said, with an Irish brogue, coming up and giving Spike a hug.  
  
Spike took a moment to gather his wits about him before he said, "Edna, how lovely to see you again," he said hugging her back, "I told you to call me William," he said, smiling at the older woman, who was positively beaming at Spike.   
  
She giggled, "Okay, William it is. And who is your lovely friend?" she asked.  
  
"This is," he started, looking over at Buffy, "Elizabeth," he said.  
  
Buffy smiled at Edna and extended her hand, "Nice to meet you, how do you know Sp, William?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, William here has helped me lots over the years. He's a godsend; taken over right where his father and grandfather left off. His grandfather helped me save this old place, paid for a new roof, even paid off the deed to my house when it was going into bankruptcy," said Edna, beaming still.  
  
"I'm sorry, where are my manners? Did you come for dinner? Of course you did, hold on," she said, going over to the maitre'd and looking over the guest book.  
  
"Oh dear, oh dear," she said, returning to Buffy and Spike, "if it was any other night of the year, I would have the mairte'd give you the best table there is! But as it is, I have absolutely no tables available until after 11:00PM and that's way too late to eat for a young couple, such as yourselves. What I can do, if you don't mind, is to feed you right in the kitchen area. There's a little room off of the pantry and I'll set that up for you, how would you like that?" Edna asked, hopefully.  
  
Spike looked at Buffy, questioningly. Buffy nodded.  
  
"That would be fine, Edna," Spike said, as they started to follow Edna, to the glares of the other diners-in-waiting.   
  
"It's more than generous, we just drove up from L.A., spur of the moment trip, so it's not your fault you didn't have an opening," Spike said.  
  
Once in the kitchen, Edna bade them to wait, while she set up a table in the little room off of the pantry.  
  
Buffy looked at the candy-apple green walls, with all the old kitchen pots and pans hung up decoratively. The cooking utensils, pots, and pans they used now seemed much more modern, but she could see that probably some of those hanging had been used at one time.  
  
Edna motioned for Buffy and Spike to follow her, so they left the kitchen and went into the little room she had set up. There was a small table with two old fashioned high back wooden chairs, with cushioned red velvet seats. The table was set with a white linen table cloth and napkins, crystal long stem glasses for wine, shorter ones for water, real silver utensils, and two candles and candle holders of crystal, with two, lit, red candles.   
  
She handed them two menus, "I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order, young William. Is there anything I can bring you to drink, first?" she asked them.  
  
Spike looked at Buffy, "Bu, Elizabeth, would you like some wine or champagne?" he asked.  
  
"Okay," she answered, almost too overwhelmed by everything to speak.  
  
"Champagne, then," Spike ordered for them.  
  
"Very good, Master Worthington, I mean William," said Edna with a giggle.  
  
She left then and Buffy turned to Spike, "How? What? How do you know Edna?"  
  
"Wait, I'll tell you over dinner," he said, handing Buffy a menu.  
  
Buffy took it from him, just shaking her head. The man was full of surprises; that was for sure!  
  
Edna came back with the champagne and poured a little bit in a glass for 'William's' approval.  
  
Spike swirled and sniffed, and gave Edna a smile and nod. She returned the smile and poured the glasses for him and Buffy.  
  
"Elizabeth, do your people come from across the pond, too?" Edna asked her.  
  
"Huh?" Buffy said, trying to think what she meant, then realizing it, England, Ireland, UK, "oh, maybe some of them, on my mom's side," she answered.  
  
"Thought so, with a name like Elizabeth," she said, smiling at Buffy.  
  
Then turning to Spike, she said, "Young William, you so remind me of your father! Your grandfather too, that is, what I can remember of him."   
  
"So I've been told, Edna, so I've been told," he replied, looking up over his champagne glass at Buffy, whose mouth was open.   
  
"Our young William has taken over where his father left off, helping me when I've needed it, looking after things. Why his grandfather even paid for my Lawrence to go to school out East."  
  
Edna finally said, "Oh, look at me going on, when two people are starvin' for dinner. Now, what can I get you? And don't be cheap, it's on me!"  
  
"No, I can't let you do that, Edna, I'll pay," Spike said.  
  
"You can and you will young William, or I'll be terribly insulted," insisted Edna.  
  
Spike sighed, "Okay, Edna, you win. Elizabeth, what would you like?" he asked.  
  
Buffy had been so taken up in moment; she'd not even looked at the menu. She hurriedly took a look, finally giving Edna her order.  
  
"I'll have the Shrimp and Scallop Fettuccini," she said.  
  
"Very good, and you, Master Worthington?" she asked.  
  
"I'll take the Prime Rib, rare; very rare," Spike ordered.  
  
"Ahhh, just like your father; always liked his meat rare, too!" Edna said, getting the rest of their side orders.  
  
"If there's nothing else, then I'll leave you two alone," she said, with a wink and walked out the door, stopping to use the light dimmer.  
  
Buffy looked at Spike, mouth open. She closed it, then said, "Who are you, William? adding, "William Worthington?"   
  
"Maybe you need to drink some of this champagne first," Spike suggested, smiling. 


	9. GOLDRUSH

CHAPTER 9 - GOLDRUSH  
  
Buffy took a long drink of her champagne, "Okay, spill," she said.  
  
"What do you want to know first luv?" he asked.  
  
She just looked at him, "How long have you known Edna and what's this about your father?"  
  
"Well, as you could probably guess, there is no father or grandfather, just me," he said, looking at her, wondering how much he should tell her.  
  
"Maybe you should tell me first how you came to own the place we're going to," Buffy said.  
  
They were interrupted as Edna entered with the soups, salads, and rolls, "Everything okay? Need anything else right now?" she asked.  
  
"Spike looked at Buffy, "Need anything else Elizabeth? Something else to drink?" Spike asked her.  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"We're fine, thanks, Edna," Spike said, smiling at her.  
  
"I'll be back with your dinner in about 15 minutes, then," Edna said, leaving them alone once again.  
  
Spike waited until Edna had walked out of the pantry, then turned to Buffy, "How did I come to own my place? Well, as you know, I got 'turned' in 1880. Well, my brother had been hearing about the 'Great Goldrush' taking place in California, here in Julian, in fact, since the mid 1870's; had been talkin' about it for about that long, too. He was always a shrewd businessman; a real prick; cruel even, but shrewd when it came to business investments."   
  
Spike stopped to butter a roll and hand it to Buffy, who took it from him.   
  
"Enjoying the soup?" he asked.  
  
"Ummm, yes," she said, "continue, please."  
  
"Okay," he said," taking a spoonful, himself.  
  
"Not really my thing, but pretty tasty. Clam Chowder."  
  
"Spike!" Buffy said.  
  
"Okay, okay! So, my brother decided that he would someday come here and mine for gold. However, he had other obligations to take care of at the time, so he just purchased about 1000 acres through his solicitor in 1875. One thousand prime acres right in the middle of the richest gold mines ever found in California at that time; bought them for practically half-pences per acre; um, pennies. Use to brag to anyone who would listen how he was going to come here and strike it rich. Braggin' as if he'd already had the gold in his hands," Spike said, not without some rancor.  
  
"So what happened? Did he come here? Find gold?" Buffy asked.  
  
"What happened? You want to know what happened?" Spike looked at her, his eyes taking on a hard glint; "can't you guess?"  
  
Buffy looked at him. He had been so gentle with her, with Edna all this time, all of a sudden he sounded so bitter, so...hurt?"  
  
"I don't know what happened, Spike. I wasn't there. Why don't you just tell me," she said, then added, "it doesn't matter to me, not really, not anymore. It was a long time ago, you were...different."  
  
Spike sort of snorted, "Yeah, I was different. Newly vamped, running on pure demon energy, demon rage; rage against all those who had made my life a hell when I was human. Number one target, as you may have guessed - my brother!" Spike said, getting visibly upset. He stopped to get a grip on his emotions, sensing Buffy getting upset. He wanted this weekend to be for her, not about him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Buffy," Spike said, looking at her.  
  
"It's alright, continue," she told him.  
  
"Sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay, then. So, without going into details, I killed my brother; made him suffer, like he did me when I was human," Spike said, "raided his valuables and didn't think much about it again."  
  
"Then quite a few years later, I got to thinking about that property up here, all that stuff he'd been saying about it, about the gold, about the land. So, I find this deed in with the stuff I'd taken and pretty much forgotten about, except for the stuff I used right away."  
  
Buffy looked at Spike, "And then what?"  
  
"Well, then I had to wait until a long time had passed, in order to claim I was a legitimate, lost heir to his deed, so as to not draw suspicion, or have to make too many explanations," Spike said.  
  
"So around 1900 or so, I find a vampire who'd once been a solicitor in life," he said, then quipped, "you know what they call solicitors or lawyers, don't you?"  
  
"What?" asked Buffy, stuffing a piece of tomato in her mouth.  
  
"Bloodsuckers!" Spike said, laughing.  
  
"Funny, funny...go on with the story," Buffy said, interested in this past of his she knew nothing about.  
  
"Okay, so I talk to this guy and he tells me what I need to know to get the deed put into my name, William Worthington, long lost first cousin of Henry Worthington."  
  
"After that was all done, I decided that I would come here one day and see it for myself. Well, when Dru, Angel, Darla, and I first got to this country we stayed out east for a number of years. I still wasn't ready to break off on my own and come west. Besides, the trip then was arduous; certainly not something I was prepared to do, even as a vampire; especially as a vampire."  
  
"Around 1920, just as Hollywood started to really get into movie making and there was all this glitter and glamour thing going on, the gang decides that would be the place to make a go of it; easy pickings and all that," Spike said. "Of course, I had a lot to do with that mindset; kept showing them articles and all that, really just trying to position myself to come up here and have a look around."  
  
"Did they know about your property?" Buffy asked.  
  
"No, never told another living soul that I was close with. Except for you. And Clem."  
  
Just then Edna brought the food; Buffy Shrimp and Scallop Fettuccini and Spike a very rare, large Prime Rib, and baked potatoes.  
  
"Here's your dinner, hope you enjoy it," Edna said, smiling at them, "anything else I can get you, Master William? Elizabeth?"  
  
"No, thank you," Buffy said.  
  
"No, this is fine, it's perfect," Spike said, smiling warmly at Edna, as Buffy looked on.  
  
"Okay, you two enjoy your meal, I'll be back in a little while to see if there's anything else you need," Edna said, smiling warmly at them, especially Spike, whom she gave a wink as she left.  
  
"Oooh, this looks so good!" Buffy said, "much better than that French weird stuff last night!"  
  
"Even the pears dipped in brandy and sauce?" Spike asked a bit snarkily, then wished he hadn't.  
  
Buffy put her hand on top of his, as he was about to cut into the steak, "Yes, much better; even if we were at McDonalds, it would still be much better," she finished, then looking him in the eyes.  
  
Spike didn't say anything, just put his fork down and place his hand on top of hers, sandwiching it between both of his.  
  
Finally, Buffy spoke, removing her hand gently, "Tell me how you know Edna."  
  
Spike started cutting his steak again, "Well, once the gang and I settled near Hollywood, I decided to come up here by myself; have a look around. It wasn't too hard to find someone who would take me out to the area. Even at night I could tell it was a pristine place; a beautiful place. However, I needed to have a way to get some money out of my brother's investment, so through a solicitor here, I sold some acres, had some mined, and kept about 100 acres for myself," Spike said.   
  
"Gold and land was the best investment I could have ever had, had to thank my dead brother for that one. When everyone else got burned by the stock market crashed, my money was all in gold and land; didn't lose a thing, made more money, in fact."   
  
"Funny thing was, by the time I ever laid eyes on this place, the gold rush was long over. About 4 - 5 million in gold ore was taken out of this area by 1879. But I had held onto 1000 acres of prime land during that time, land that had never been mined, as of yet; land that wound up yielding almost as much as the original claims had 50 years before."   
  
"I started another gold rush into this area, though a much smaller one, one that was limited to only the amount of investors I sold to. I sold land in about 10 to 100 acre parcels, so there weren't nearly as many people as had come in the first rush. Of course, each of those investors also had to bring their own work crews, etc."  
  
"And I only sold to investors who promised they wouldn't totally strip the land bare and would replant trees and fill in the new mines, once they were through. It was right in the contract and if they didn't, I'd just come back and kill them if I saw they were abusing their privilege."  
  
"What privilege was that, Spike?" Buffy asked.  
  
"The privilege of being a steward of this land, of course," Spike answered, indignantly, "I knew even then, that this was a piece of paradise that was worth preserving."  
  
"So you were the original environmentalist, then?" Buffy asked, laughing, as she twirled a piece of Fettuccini on her fork.  
  
"Well, not original, but I was ahead of my time. Did a lot of reading about American Indians and their philosophy of the land and all that. Sound like a freakin' poof, don't I? Worse still, a member of Greenpeace," Spike said, rolling his eyes, heavenward.  
  
"Not at all, it's nice, Spike. I mean, strange, but really nice that you think that way, even..."Buffy said.  
  
"Even though I'm a vampire and have spent lots more time destroying than saving, you mean?" he said.  
  
"I guess. I just would never have guessed you for...I never much thought about how you thought about these issues. See, I don't even have time to think about them, wish that I did; wish I had time for deep, long, philosophical debates on issues, on history, on God, the universe, the meaning of life, death, all of it...I just don't. No time for Buffy to have...to think what ifs..." Buffy put down her fork, her eyes tearing up.  
  
"Shit! No, Buffy!" Spike said, "please, don't get upset. I wanted this to be a nice weekend for you, a time for you to rest, not think about all of...everything else," Spike said, wiping a tear off of her face.  
  
"Probably wouldn't understand all that stuff anyway. Never that good of a student," Buffy said with a little sniffle.  
  
"Buffy, don't you ever, ever let me hear you talk about yourself that way!" Spike said.  
  
"You are the smartest, bravest person I know. It's not your fault that you haven't had time to study different philosophies, which by the way, most are full of shit, or continued your studies. Not your fault." Spike said.  
  
"But how many of those armchair philosophers will ever know the name of the person who saved the world for them, more than once? Saved it so's they could have their little useless debates about stuff, that, in the long run, doesn't mean a thing; not if the world ends! That's your contribution, Buffy, and don't you ever forget it. It's priceless, YOU ARE PRICELESS! Spike said, forcefully, taking Buffy's chin in his hand and looking into her eyes.  
  
Buffy looked back into his, "You always have believed in me, haven't you?" she asked.  
  
"Always! Until the end of the world and beyond!" Spike answered verbally, while his eyes told of his deep feelings he always had, would always have for her.  
  
Spike! Her knight in slightly tarnished, bruised, and broken armor, but to her, he shined all the same.  
  
"Thank you, Spike. If I haven't told you lately; I believe in you, too."   
  
To the end of the world and beyond!  
  
Spike looked at her with that look of wonder he so rarely showed, the look reserved just for her, the look he gave her when she'd come to rescue him from The First; a look of hope, belief, wonder, and undying, unfaltering love. For her.  
  
Slowly, he took his hand off of her face, "You should eat, Buffy, luv, your food's going to get cold," he said.  
  
"Okay," Buffy answered, "but you still haven't answered how you know Edna."  
  
END OF CHAPTER 9 


	10. EDNA

CHAPTER 10 - EDNA  
  
Spike took a couple more bites of his very rare steak and continued the story.  
  
"As I told you, once we got to Hollywood, I took a few little side ventures up to this area to check it out. Mostly when the gang was busy with some big Hollywood parties they'd get themselves invited to. You know Darla and Angel, in particular; they could dress the part of belonging to the whole Hollywood scene; all that foppery and finery. Dru, too could look the part; as long as she didn't open her mouth, that is," he said with a sad little smile.  
  
"Okay, so anyway, they'd ingratiate themselves in some scene or another, get invited to lots of parties over weeks and months until they were totally accepted. Angel passed himself off as an independently wealthy, Irish businessman who had made his fortune in steel or something like that. Darla played the part of his wife, and Drusilla as her sister," Spike said.  
  
Buffy stopped eating, listening to this part of Angel's life she'd never heard before.  
  
"I went to one or two of their parties, but honestly, it just turned my stomach. All those people playing at pretending to be something they weren't. Or wanted to be. Reminded me too much of those stupid parties I use to feel so out of place at back home; before I was turned," Spike said, his mouth turned up, scornfully, at the memory.  
  
"Besides, bad-ass vampire here! Didn't want to play footsies and make nice with my next meal, just wanted to get on with the festivities, if you know what I mean."  
  
Buffy nodded. She knew exactly what kind of vampire Spike had been.  
  
"But not them three; played the part, went to the parties and gave them, too. Then, finally, when they tired of a certain group of dandies, they'd go to one final party scene, get them into some small room or wine cellar and go to town! They were sort of like the Charles Manson and gang of their day," Spike said.  
  
Buffy shuddered, she also knew what kind of vampire Angel had been, but had tried hard not to think about it for a long time.  
  
"So's when they would be having a period of party-going, I would just tell them I was going to go do my own thing and wound up coming up here," Spike said, with a shrug. "Oh, I mentioned that they all dressed the part. Well, even I had to do a little bit of that. Dress for the age, the times, the area, you know what I mean?"  
  
Buffy nodded, trying to imagine what a prospective landowner would have looked like back in the earlier part of the 20th century.  
  
"And still, Spike, you've told me all this, but not about Edna," Buffy said, just as Edna reappeared.  
  
"How is my favorite Valentine's Day couple doing with their dinner?" she asked them, smiling.  
  
"Fine!" Buffy and Spike answered at the same time.  
  
"Can I bring you anything else? Another bottle of champagne?" she asked.  
  
"Could I please have a glass of water?" asked Buffy.  
  
"Why sure you can, dear," Edna answered, then turned towards Spike.  
  
"Master William? Anything else, anything at all you need?"  
  
"No thank you, Edna. I'm doing just fine," he replied, with a smile.  
  
"Ok, then. I'll be right back with Elizabeth's water," she said and hurried out.  
  
Spike and Buffy were quiet during that time, knowing that any conversation they would start would likely be interrupted momentarily.  
  
Edna was back in a minute with the glass of water.  
  
As soon as she left, Buffy looked at Spike, pointedly.  
  
"Okay, okay, Slayer. I'm getting there," he said, laughing at her persistence to not let go of something; but then again, that was what he loved about her; one of the many things.  
  
"Edna's husband came to this country from Ireland in 1930. He lived in New York for about 9 years, working at various jobs, but didn't want to stay there. He, like my brother had heard about the money to be made in California. However, before he went west he wanted to find a wife. He didn't have any luck in New York, the Irish girls there, becoming more independent that the girls back home; they worked, had their own money, etc. So, Lawrence McKennitt, that was his name, went back to Ireland to find a bride. That's where he met Edna Brannagan, a lovely, lively 18 year old young woman who was taken with the 35 year old man who told her stories of America, in particular, California," Spike said.  
  
"He was a lot older than her," Buffy said, "though I suppose there have always been girls who liked the older man," Buffy commented.  
  
"Good for me, huh?" Spike asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
Spike just looked at her. Pointedly; eyebrow arching.  
  
"Oh, yeah, good for you, Spike!" Buffy said, rolling her eyes; catching on, none-too-quickly. Nobody would ever accuse her of being a quick study, she thought.  
  
"Where was I?" Spike asked.  
  
"Lawrence and Edna," Buffy answered.  
  
"Okay, so Lawrence courts Edna for about a year, marries her, then brings her over to America. With a small dowry from her parents, they head west to Julian, after hearing of the new gold rush from one of my investors. They decided to buy one of the former restaurants and the small hotel next door. Edna figured that it would a good thing to keep this area family friendly for the investors and their workmen, so the town didn't turn into a rough place.   
  
Buffy was finished eating; she pushed her plate away.  
  
"Good?" Spike asked.  
  
"Delicious!" Buffy answered, handing him her champagne glass for a refill.  
  
Spike poured her and himself some more, "We could use another bottle, looks like," he said.  
  
Just then Edna came in with a chocolate cake, frosted in white, with a blood-red heart in the middle, with their names, William and Elizabeth written in the middle in white.  
  
"What's this?" Spike asked.  
  
"Oh, just a little something for my favorite couple," Edna said, setting down two plates, clean forks, and a serving knife.   
  
"May I cut you a piece?" she asked.  
  
"Please," Buffy said, handing her the plate.  
  
"Master William?"  
  
"Sure, why not? Did you make this?" he asked.  
  
"Of course. Make all my own cakes here, just like always," Edna answered.  
  
"Can I get you anything else?"   
  
"How about another bottle of champagne?" Spike said.  
  
"Oh, no. I don't think I can, should," Buffy said, "how about some coffee, instead?"  
  
"Bring Elizabeth and I two coffees, but I'll take that bottle of champagne to go, if that's allowed," Spike said.  
  
"Of course it's allowed Master William, for you anything. I'll be right back with the coffees," Edna said, leaving the room.  
  
"Ummmm! Chocolate cake, looks yummy," Buffy said, smiling.  
  
Spike smiled back at her, just looking at her, enjoying her company, sitting there, smiling, relaxed, something so normal; something so hard for her to have.  
  
Edna came back with the two coffees, cream, and sugar. She left after setting them down, bidding them to enjoy their desserts and coffees.  
  
"How'd you meet her, Spike?" Buffy said, nodding her head toward Edna, as she retreated back to the kitchen.  
  
"Back when I first came here, I only came at night, of course. Not the easiest thing to do, but I managed, somehow," Spike said.  
  
"I pretty much hated having anything to do with humans, except as a means to an end, of course. Not like Angel and them. Didn't want to get to know them, didn't want to do anything except use them for what I needed."  
  
"Of course, having to deal in property and gold changed the amount I had to deal with them, even indirectly, quite a bit."  
  
"I was up here, on my property one night. I use to sleep in a cave up there. Anyway, I decided to come down to town one night; something I'd never done before. So, I'm walking through the town and I hear an argument between two men, then I hear a woman scream. I don't know what made me go to investigate, usually I didn't care to involve myself in the problems of humans, but tonight I did."  
  
"Lawrence had thrown out a drunk customer who had apparently made a lewd remark about Edna, and now the drunk had come back with a knife. He had already cut Lawrence in the arm, I could smell the blood, you know. Anyway, they're out behind the restaurant, Lawrence is on the ground and the drunk is advancing," Spike said.  
  
"What happened then?" Buffy said, fork with cake suspended in mid-air.  
  
"I reach the guy, just as he's about to gut Lawrence, and throw him off him, pummeling him until he's almost dead."  
  
"I must have vamped out during the fight, I usually almost always did, back then. Lawrence didn't see it, but when I looked up, back towards the restaurant, Edna was in the window. I...I think she must have seen me vamp out."  
  
"Anyway, Lawrence is okay, then. Edna comes out to take care of him and I start to take off," Spike said.  
  
"What happened," Buffy asked.  
  
"Lawrence stops Edna from attending to him, and comes after me."  
  
"What's your name, young fellow?" Lawrence asks me.  
  
I'm dumbfounded. I haven't had a voluntary conversation with a human in decades, not to mention; helped one of them. I tried to keep going, but something makes me stop.  
  
"Sp, William, William Worthington," I say, almost stumbling on my given name.   
  
"Well, William Worthington, I want extend my most humble thanks for you kindly coming to my aid back there. Fellow came in earlier and insulted my dear, lovely wife Edna with his dirty mouth and lascivious, boorish behavior," Lawrence had said. "Then came back with a knife an hour later."   
  
"No problem," I had told him, again, trying to leave, to get back to my cave.  
  
"Master Worthington, the Mrs. and I would be honored if you'd join us for a glass of wine or would you like to be our guest for dinner?" he'd asked me, almost pleading.  
  
"I don't know why I accepted his offer. I really don't. Maybe I was just lonely for somebody else's company besides my own. Didn't have much doings with Angel and them during that time."  
  
"So I come back to the restaurant; this very restaurant with Lawrence. This time, to the front of it, to the porch. They've closed up for the night and invite me in, but I don't want to go inside, so Edna brings Lawrence and me couple a bottles of wine and glasses out to the porch."  
  
"I'm wondering if she had seen me vamp. She looked kind of strangely at me, but not in a scared manner, only questioningly, know what I mean?" Spike asked.  
  
Buffy nodded, completely enthralled by his story.  
  
"She thanked me for saving Lawrence, then went back inside. That was the only time I spoke to her or had direct contact with her for the next 25 years. Except for once, two years later." Spike said.  
  
"So Lawrence asks me about myself. He knew by my name, that I owned the land; through his friend, the investor, who had first told him and Edna about Julian. He asks me where I'm staying and I just tell him I'm pitching a tent while I'm up here. Lawrence suggests that I build myself a house on some of the property that I own. Gives me names of contractors, tells me he'll help me...Up until that point, I'd never really considered doing such a thing. Never lived in a place I owned. Usually we'd just kill someone and take over livin' in the place. Never had I thought about having something like a house; of my own. But that night, it somehow seemed to make sense and suddenly, more than anything I'd ever wanted, I wanted to build a house, here in this area, a place of my own, a place..." Spike stopped, smiling at Buffy who was staring at him.  
  
Spike hadn't realized that he'd reached across the table taking her hand when he had let the last sentences' words drop away, but not the yearning in them.  
  
She looked down at his hand. His hand, soft, strong; scared by many battles. She put her other hand on top of his, tracing its shape, the shape of his fingers, his nails.  
  
"Go on," she encouraged.  
  
"So, with Lawrence and his help in setting up the contractors, etc., I start having my house built. In the meantime Edna becomes pregnant with their first and only child and I'm spending more time here than I should," Spike says.  
  
"Why? Why more time than you should?"  
  
"Well, remember how I'd said that I never told another person about this place, except for you and Clem?"  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
"Well, it would seem that what I assumed to be my 'unmissed absences' weren't entirely unnoticed by Angel, Darla, and Dru," Spike said, a hard edge creeping into his voice.  
  
"What happened?" Buffy asked, with a feeling of dread.  
  
"After I returned to Hollywood, Angel said we were all going to go to San Francisco for a while. I didn't want to leave, but couldn't very well oppose him. Back then, I just did what he wanted me to. One, I was afraid of him, and two, I, they, well...they were still the only family that I had."  
  
"So, I didn't think anything of it. The house was already being built and Lawrence had the money to hire the workers and all that, so I really didn't need to be there."  
  
"Angel tells me to take the girls up to San Francisco and that he'll join me in a few days. And he does, and for next two years we're living up there and I don't have any idea what's happening in Julian. I'd given Lawrence carte blanche to make decisions in my absence, so I didn't worry, although I did want to see how things were going.  
  
"So, a couple of years pass; mere minutes in a vampire's life. Anyway, Angel decides to go back to England for a while with Darla. Dru and I were living on our own at the time and we were fighting. She was off half the time carrying on with some demon or other. So, she decides she's going to go with Angel and Darla. Didn't even tell me. By the time I find out they're gone it's a couple of months later. I'm overjoyed! Finally, a chance to come back up here, check how things are going, see the house for the first time."  
  
"So I get back here, this is early 1943, or there abouts. The first thing I do is to go to the site where my home is supposed to be. What do you think I find?" Spike asked bitterly, as he took a long drink of the champagne.  
  
"I don't know, what?" Buffy asked, fearing what he was going to tell her.  
  
"I find that 'my house' is not much more than a foundation and a few walls, which don't seem to be holding up. Looks like work hasn't been done in all the time I've been gone."  
  
"I'm furious with Lawrence! I feel betrayed, stupid that I trusted a human, I'm sure that he must have taken my money and kept if for his self. I vow to find him and kill him, Edna, and any offspring they have!" Spike said.  
  
"What happened next," Buffy asked.  
  
"Well, I go into town; over here. The first thing I notice is that this restaurant is boarded up with a 'Closed by Order of the Town of Julian,' sign in front. Next door at the hotel they owned, I see a 'Foreclosure,' sign on the front lawn."  
  
"Well, I forget all about my anger and go running over to the hotel and bang on the door. A bedraggled woman who looks like a much, much older version of Edna answers the door carrying a little tyke, not much more than 18 months old, on her hip."  
  
"I yell at her, 'Where's Lawrence? Where's Edna? Where are the people who use to own the restaurant and this place?' I demand of this woman," Spike recounted.  
  
Shocked, she takes a good long look at me and I at her.  
  
"Master Worthington?" she asks of me, voice shaking.  
  
"Edna? I ask, almost too shocked for any words."  
  
"She burst out crying as she inviteed me into her once bustling hotel foyer. Over the next three hours or so, she told me that Lawrence was dead, and how he'd died. Immediately, I recognize what killed him; a vampire. Not only that, but more specifically; who killed him."  
  
"Angel?" Buffy whispered.  
  
Spike nodded, "I was sick to the depths of my non-soul. I'd know his modus operandi anywhere! Obviously, I had must've left some small hint of where I'd been for him to find. Either that or he followed me, but I didn't think so."  
  
"Edna told me how this one gentleman came to stay for a while at their hotel, slept all day, stayed up all night, would engaging them in interesting talk during the night, and kept asking about land, about the old gold rush. Asked who was selling land, all sorts of things. She said that Lawrence didn't trust him - this fellow, so that he kept being evasive. In fact, Lawrence stopped work on my place, waiting for this fellow to leave."  
  
"Unfortunately, the day that he was suppose to leave, is the day that Lawrence was viciously killed. And of course, the stranger disappeared," Spike said, bitterly.  
  
"So, Lawrence is killed and Edna is without support?" Buffy asked, then added, "What happened to the money you'd given Lawrence, for your place?"  
  
"That's the thing that really had me! Edna put that money aside. She was losing everything she had, the restaurant, the hotel, everything. And all this time, she had money that she could have used. But she didn't. She didn't know how to get in touch with me, if I was dead or alive, but she didn't touch it, went into bankruptcy, instead," Spike said, shaking his head.  
  
"So you helped her out?" Buffy asked.  
  
Spike nodded, "Yeah. What else was I supposed to do? Couldn't let her and the little one starve, now could I? So, yeah, paid off her restaurant and her hotel. Then I put aside some money so that her son, Lawrence Jr., could go to college one day."  
  
"I felt guilty. If I'd never left some sort of trail...something that let Angel know that I'd either been here or was interested in the place, then he would never have come up here, would have never killed Lawrence," Spike said, sadly.  
  
"Did she know what killed him?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Not sure, but she described the way he was killed, so there was no doubt in my mind whose handiwork it was. It was like Angel leaving me a postcard, almost. And that was what I think he intended to do. He'd somehow found out that I had been here and wanted to let me know that he still had 'power' over me, that I would not go behind his back and live any kind of life without his knowledge and approval."  
  
"So, you never saw her again after that?" Buffy asked.  
  
"You mean my grandfather didn't see her again?" Spike said, smiling, "no, I sent her money through a solicitor, but I didn't want to see her again. It was too painful. That and the fact that as the years went on, she aged, but I didn't."  
  
"By the time I did decide to come back here, decide to start building again, I sent a telegram that William Worthington I had died back in England. Then his son, William Worthington II, my father, started having a relationship with Edna and her son, who was by then out of college. Did I mention that he became a solicitor? A lawyer? In fact, he's been mine and my father's for years."  
  
"So, every 40-50 years, I have to change generational Williams'. After a couple of decades, I wait 20 years or so, then the son comes up here to take over the house building and improving and looking after Edna."  
  
"So where's Edna's son, now?" Buffy asked.  
  
"He's in San Diego now, used to practice back east. Did I tell you what Edna did? She gave her son William as a middle name after I'd paid off her loans. He always sort of thought of me as his Godfather. Can you imagine that, Buffy? An evil vampire for a Godfather?" Spike laughed.  
  
"But that's not what you were to her, or to him," Buffy said.  
  
"No, but in reality, that is what I was mostly during that time. It was only when I was here, that I was...more than that; for them," he said.  
  
"They believed in you, and you didn't break their belief," she said.  
  
"How could I? I'd already brought misery into their lives, changed their lives forever and they didn't even know it."  
  
"It wasn't your fault," Buffy said, reaching across the table for his hand.  
  
"Wasn't it? Really?" he said, pulling his hand away.  
  
"I don't think so," she answered.  
  
They were silent for a few minutes, thinking and drinking their coffees. Edna entered the room carrying a large bag.  
  
"What's this then?" Spike asked.  
  
"Oh, just some goodies for you and Elizabeth to take up to your place," she said, giggling.  
  
"A couple of bottles of champagne, cake, and some leftovers from all the dinners we cooked tonight. I mean, not customer's leftovers, but fresh from the kitchen. Also gave you some eggs, milk, and coffee for tomorrow morning," Edna said, handing the oversize bag to Spike.  
  
"That's very nice of you, dear," he said to her, fondly, "what would I do without you?"  
  
"I think that's the other way around, Master William," she replied.  
  
Buffy stood up, "Do you have a washroom around?" she asked.  
  
"Up on the second floor, just walk to the back of the store and you'll see them," Edna said.  
  
"Okay...William, I'll meet you by the front door in about 5 minutes or so, okay?" Buffy said.  
  
"Uh-hmmm, okay," Spike answered.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 10 


	11. THE GIFT

CHAPTER 11 - THE GIFT  
  
Buffy made her way up the narrow stairs, looking at old photographs along stairway, until she got the second floor. There was a somewhat small, but densely packed, room - the antique shop. She made her way to the far end of the room, used the restroom, and fixed herself up, somewhat.  
  
She left the restroom and decided she'd have a look around before going to meet Spike at the front door. The room had the general collection of antique accoutrements from eras gone by. At least there wasn't any kitsch from the 70's, like so many other shops. This was the real deal. As she was about to leave, she saw a little sign that said, "BOOKS," and a sign leading up to another floor.   
  
Deciding it wouldn't hurt to have a quick look, she ascended the second staircase. "Maybe I'll find something to read this weekend. Suppose to relax, right? Even find one of those philosophy books," she mused to herself.  
  
However, after looking for a few minutes, she decided there wasn't anything she really felt like she could get into. Just as she was about to go back downstairs, she gave the nearest shelf one final look. There on the top shelf, was a book pushed almost to the back. Something made her curious to find out what it was. She pulled an empty milk crate that was nearby, towards the shelf and stood up on it.   
  
She pulled the old book off of the shelf and blew off the dust. It was bound in a heavy brown leather, with red writing, "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare," it said.   
  
Buffy looked inside for a date, but could only manage to find something in Roman numerals, "Stupid Roman numerals!" she thought to herself, then smiled. "Well, if it's old, maybe Spike will like it."  
  
She took the book and headed back downstairs to pay for it.  
  
On the second floor again, she saw Edna standing behind a counter with an old fashioned cash register.   
  
"Thought you might be needing my assistance, Miss Elizabeth," Edna said.  
  
"Thanks, I'd like to purchase this," Buffy said, laying down the book.  
  
"Oh, this is very nice. I didn't know we still even had this, I haven't seen it for years," Edna said.  
  
"It was high up, I had to stand on the milk crate in order to reach it; hope that was alright," Buffy said.  
  
"Oh, perfectly fine, Elizabeth, perfectly fine," Edna said, then added, "I think Master William will really like it."  
  
"How did you know I'm buying it for him?" Buffy asked, "I could be buying it for myself," she said, slightly defensive.  
  
"Of course you could, dear," Edna said, "But Master William has a lovely English accent, just thought you'd want to have him read it to you."  
  
Buffy smiled, "It is for him, you were right. That's a nice idea, maybe he'll read it aloud. Do you think he'll like Shakespeare?" she asked.  
  
"I think that Master William is bound to, let me explain. As long as I've known him, and I don't profess to really know him well, not even after all these years; not well at all, I've thought of him, as being like a deep, dark well. And in there, in that dark, deep well, I think he has many secrets, many different parts of himself, so I would suspect that a Shakespeare-reading self, might just be in there, too. Don't you?" Edna asked.  
  
"He's not just dark," Buffy had blurted out, before she could stop herself.  
  
"Oh, I didn't mean that at all, not at all. I've just always sensed a great sadness, a great yearning in Master William. In his father and grandfather, as well. Guess it's a family thing, though I'd swear they are all most alike, only difference is the clothes and mannerisms that come with each age," Edna said, looking at Buffy.  
  
Buffy didn't know what to say, so she just asked, "How much is the book?"   
  
"Let's see here," Edna said, opening the front cover, "Oh, good, it's good that nobody ever wrote in this. I'd say it's $3.00."  
  
"Is that all? You sure?"  
  
Edna nodded.  
  
Buffy paid her, then seeing the little pad of paper with faint pink hearts on them, she decided to do something. She took out her pen and wrote a note, then folded it. On the outside, it simply said, "To William, From Elizabeth."  
  
"Edna, can I ask you a favor? A special favor?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Of course, what is it?"   
  
"If Sp, if you see William again, sometime, anytime in the future, it doesn't matter how long from now; if you see him and I'm not with him, would you please, please give him this? From me?" Buffy handed her the note, knowing that Edna would see to it, no matter when that might be.  
  
Edna sensed, somehow this might be the only time she would see Elizabeth. She hoped not, with all her heart, but she nodded, "I'll see that he gets it, if you're not here to give it to him yourself," she said solemnly.  
  
"Thank you. It was nice meeting you, I hope, I hope I see you again," Buffy said, putting the book into her purse and heading toward the stairs.  
  
"I do too, dear, I do, too," Edna said softly, to Buffy's retreating figure.  
When Buffy had gone upstairs, Spike had gone to the front door of the restaurant to wait. As he was standing there waiting for Buffy, he saw a slightly opened door with a light coming from within it. He walked over and looked in and saw a small room full of yet, more antiques; these being more of the girly type things, jewelry, hairbrushes, mirrors, little frames, etc. He pushed the door and walked in. He looked around for a few minutes, until something caught his eye, under glass at the jewelry counter.   
  
It was the most unusual necklace he'd ever seen. The necklace had a delicate chain, which came down on either side to two little pieces of lavender glass, connected by a little brass shell. Under the shell was a couple of little links, and finally there was the main piece: a brass heart holding two lovebirds. Above and below the heart were two other pieces of the little lavender glass, one above and almost between their heads, the other between their tails. The heart dissected the birds, right at their tails. There was a sort of half rectangle of brass that had two tiny, white cloisonné flowers on both ends. The half rectangle sort of dissected the heart (or would have, if it had gone all the way through) and it also served as the bird's perch.  
  
Edna had come in and watched, as Spike stared at the necklace, "Would you like to see that, Master William?" she asked him.  
  
He nodded, "Yes, please."  
  
She handed the necklace to him and watched as his fine hands caressed the birds within the heart. She could almost see him putting it on Elizabeth's pretty neck; see the delight in his face as she opened the box; saw it for the first time, lovingly held it in her hands, looked at William with eyes that spoke of love...  
  
She remembered how she felt when Lawrence had first put it around her neck, the night he asked her to become his wife, to come to California with him.  
  
"How much for this?" William asked her.  
  
She wanted to just give it to him, but knew he wouldn't accept it, "Oh, let's see, hmmmm, how much was that? Oh, I remember now. Ten dollars," Edna told him.  
  
"That all? You sure? Okay, I'll take it," Spike said, handing her the money, "do you have a box, by any chance?"  
  
She nodded, and reached down, getting out a purple, heart-shaped box. She put the necklace inside, looking at it one last time; she closed the lid, smiling. She put the $10.00 in her pocket and handed William the box, which he carefully placed in his inner jacket pocket.  
  
"She'll love it," Edna said to him.  
  
"Thanks, I think so, too," he said, happy to have found this little beautiful thing for her.  
  
Edna had gone upstairs afterwards, and taken care of Elizabeth's purchase. It was so cute, how they had each thought to buy the other one something, secretly.   
  
She walked downstairs as they were leaving, "Come back soon Master William, Miss Elizabeth," Edna said.  
  
"We will. And thank you for the lovely dinner," William said.  
  
Elizabeth echoed his sentiments.  
  
She watched them as they walked out the door, then turned and picked up the little sign that had fallen off of the door to the room where William had found the necklace; it said, "The Rittenhouse Museum Antiques Room."  
  
END OF CHAPTER 11 


	12. MAGIC GATES IN THE NIGHT

CHAPTER 12 - MAGIC GATES IN THE NIGHT  
  
"It got cold," Buffy said, shivering, as they walked to the car.  
  
"Yeah, usually does up here, this time of year," Spike said, holding the door for her.  
  
Buffy settled grabbed the warm jacket she brought from home and put it on, before buckling herself into the car.  
  
"I should check with home," Buffy said, starting to call.  
  
"Why don't you just plug into the computer?" Spike asked.  
  
"Good idea," she agreed, not really wanting to talk to whomever might answer, especially if that whomever, might just happen to be Giles.  
  
Buffy hooked up the computer to the phone and dialed her home.  
  
"Wow, it works," she exclaimed.  
  
Spike took a look over at the screen, where the main camera just happened to be pointed to the living room.  
  
"Looks pretty normal," he said, seeing all the potentials, Giles, Xander, and Willow.  
  
"Hey, Wil's on the computer. She just showed me this Instant Message thing, I should...oh, there she is," Buffy said, hearing the chime of the AIM.  
  
Wicca1: Buffy, you there?  
Slay1: Yeah, here.  
Wicca1: where are you?  
Slay1: car, how's everyone? Problems?  
Wicca1: fine, no problems, no FE  
Slay1: good  
Wicca: tried to IM you before, where were you?  
Slay1: eating, restaurant  
Wicca1: two in a row  
Slay1: what? two in a row?  
Wicca: restaurants  
Slay1: yeah  
Wicca1: nice?  
Slay1: very  
Wicca1: which one?  
Slay1: huh?  
Wicca1: nicer?   
Slay1: this one  
Wicca1: company too?  
Slay1: uh-huh  
Slay1: nosey!  
Wicca: "Oh, Spike, she gasped, I just love your 'evil energy', "  
Wicca: :)  
Slay1: and say, how's Kennedy???  
  
Spike looked over at the screen, "Wicca1? Slay1? Sheesh, that's original! Better hope The First isn't getting help from the former geeks," he said, shaking his head.  
  
Slay1: Spike says hello.  
Wicca1: back at him, tell him I still think...  
Slay1: I will not. ;)  
Wicca: Giles wants to talk to you. Uh-oh,   
  
"Giles, I think I've lost the connection,"  
  
Wicca1: bye ;)  
Slay1: bye, talk to you tomorrow.  
Slay1: tell the girls, "I'll be watching!"  
Wicca1: k  
Slay1: bye  
Wicca1: bye  
  
"Hey, I'm a geek, now, too!" Buffy said, disconnecting the phone/modem and laptop from each other.  
  
"Yeah," Spike said, laughing.   
  
He drove along, following the road back out of town and veering off the main road about 2 miles out.   
  
"Gonna get sort of bumpy, Slayer," he told her.  
  
"Buffy, I want to be Buffy this weekend," she corrected.  
  
"Going to get sort of bumpy, Buffy," he said again.  
  
"Bumpy-Buffy. Okay, Spike, if you have to say words like that together, you can use 'Slayer,' but only under those conditions," she said laughing.  
  
Spike was now driving on a dirt road, heading up to a higher elevation. About 2 miles later, he stopped the car.  
  
"What is it? Did you take a wrong turn?" Buffy asked, seeing that the road abruptly ended in forest as dense as those to either side of her.  
  
"Wait here, you'll see," Spike said, getting out of the car.  
  
She watched in the headlights as Spike climbed up a nearby tree and seemingly jumped down on the other side of trees that were in front of the car.  
  
"What the...?" she had just started to wonder, when all of a sudden the trees in front of her, in front of the car, started moving off to one side. The 'trees,' about 12 feet of them were moving. Some to the left, some to the right. Buffy just stared as they separated until there was an opening, in the middle of which, stood Spike, grinning.  
  
He walked back to the car and got in, "What do you think?" he asked her.  
  
"How? What? How?" Buffy stammered.  
  
"Gate, secret, magic gate - pretty convincing, huh?" Spike said, still grinning.  
  
"I'll say!" she answered.  
  
"Couldn't take the chance on someone ever finding this, could I?"  
  
"Guess not. No."  
  
They drove in silence for another 3/4 of a mile. All of a sudden the Buffy could lights through the trees.  
  
"Spike! Look!" she said, pointing.  
  
"It's the house, you'll see in a minute," Spike said, then added, "no worries, Slayer, I mean, Buffy. It's not what you think; I had Clem come up and set everything up for me, earlier," Spike said.  
  
"Clem?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll explain all more about that later. He came up to start the generator, no real electricity here. Had him bring some food, along with some clean bedding and towels, too. Good to change those every 50 years or so," Spike joked, then added, "he probably got a fire started, in the fireplace, too, if I know him."  
  
They soon pulled up in front of a log house.   
  
The front door opened and Clem came outside, waving at them, as he came up to the car.  
  
"Howdy guys! I was wondering if you were going to be coming at all, I've been here for about 6 hours already," Clem said.  
  
"Well, had to wait until later in the day to get out of Sunnydale, then stopped by The Rittenhouse and got a bite to eat," Spike said, as he walked over to help Buffy out.  
  
"Was Edna there? Did you see her?" Clem asked, starting to grab their overnight bags.  
  
"Of course," Spike answered.  
  
"Hey, Girl! How are you? Did you enjoy the ride up? Isn't that Edna something else?" Clem asked Buffy all at once.  
  
"Hi, Clem, good to see you, too. Everything is so...fine, it's all fine," Buffy said, trying to absorb each new situation that she'd been faced with all night long.  
  
Spike took some stuff into the house as Clem and Buffy spoke about the area, the restaurant, Edna, etc. He now came back outside, and down to the car, where he gently, took Buffy's arm, in order to disengage her from any further conversation with Clem.  
  
"Think the lady's tired from the trip," Spike said to Clem.  
  
"Of course she is," Clem cheerfully agreed.   
  
"Just let me get these bags into the house," Clem said.  
  
Buffy stood there with Spike holding onto her arm, looking at the front of the house. On the wrap-around porch, there were some old-fashioned looking swings and chairs, which suddenly looked awfully inviting.   
  
Clem came back outside and down the steps," Well, I'll be going now, Boss. I'll see you guys tomorrow?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, you'll see us tomorrow, maybe afternoon. Got your phone? Good, you know the drill" Spike said.  
  
"That I do, Boss, that I do!" Clem said, walking off.  
  
"Night, Buffy," he called back over his shoulder.  
  
"Night Clem," she said, then turned to Spike, "where is he going? Isn't he staying here?"  
  
"He's got his own guest house about 1/4 of a mile away," Spike said, motioning through the woods.  
  
"Why'd he call you Boss?" Buffy asked.  
  
"He sort of works for me, when I need him to,"  
  
"How long has this been going on?"  
  
"Years; decades. Long story made short? Saved him once, a long time ago. He's grateful, ergo, he works for me when I need him to, I keep him in poker kittens and whatever else he needs and he watches my back," Spike said. "Look, can we...talk about all that another time?"  
  
Buffy nodded, not sure she could take anymore surprises about William tonight, as it was.   
  
They stood silent for a couple of minutes, looking at the stars in the cloudless sky. Silent, close, side-by-side.  
  
"Would you like to come in?" Spike said, smiling shyly at her, a look of hopefulness in his eyes.  
  
Her eyes smiled back at his in wonder. Putting her arm through his, she said, "Yes I would Spike, very much."   
  
Then arm in arm, they walked up the steps to the porch and into the house.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 12 


	13. DANS LA MAISON DE WILLIAM

CHAPTER 13 - DANS LA MAISON DE WILLIAM   
  
Spike held the heavy wood door for Buffy as they walked into the main living area. He watched her to gage her reaction.  
  
From the looks of the well-built log house, Buffy almost expected the decor to be somewhat rustic and spartan. Somewhat minimalist perhaps; like Spike's old crypt.  
  
However, besides the high beamed ceilings and wooden architecture of the log house, the decor was anything but rustic!  
  
It was Victorian! The wooden floors were covered in warm, decorative woolen carpets and all the furnishings, from sofa and chairs, to the decorations on the walls were almost genteel in nature. There were, what looked like, mahogany and cherrywood chairs, scattered throughout the living room, all with maroon cushioned seats.   
  
A tall settee stood near, what must be a dining room off the side of the living room. There was also a little drawing table, near one end of the far wall. She could see that a collection of books and papers lay on the top of it; the only plain wooden chair in front of it. A fire was just starting to blaze in the huge fireplace, in front of which, sat the only piece of somewhat modern furniture - an oversized, maroon leather couch, covered in throws and pillows. On either far ends of the fireplace, were two doors; bedrooms she supposed.  
  
"Wow, Spike, Wow," Buffy said, appreciatively. She'd almost laughed at the decor when she first saw it, but seeing him almost let out a sigh of relief, she was glad she'd suppressed that.  
  
"Do you like it?"  
  
"It's amazing, not at all what I expected from the outside. Guess I thought it would be more woodsy or something," Buffy said, "but knowing you, I guess I shouldn't assume anything.  
  
"Yeah, I guess the outside doesn't exactly go with the inside," Spike said.  
  
"Let me explain my decor in one word. Edna."  
  
"She decorated for you?"  
  
"Well, not exactly. I never explained, but I decided to finish this project about 30 years later, and have been sort of adding things here and there ever since then."  
  
"When Edna found out my father was working on it again, she volunteered some older furnishings from the hotel. She'd updated a bit herself," he laughed, "but William's father got some of the cast-offs. Whenever she redecorated a guestroom, back when she owned the hotel next door, too, she would put the furniture in storage for me, then when I was about, I would pick it up and bring it here. And that, dear Buffy, is how I came to have a Victorian decorated log house!" Spike said.  
  
"Well, I see you have a couple of newish things," Buffy said, pointing to the couch.  
  
"Yeah, I love that couch! Believe it or not, that came from Edna's son, Lawrence. He used to keep a small house up here where he'd spend the summers. Sold it a few years ago, just stays in San Diego now, but he gave me the couch and some other furnishings."  
  
"I see," Buffy said, not knowing what else to say.  
  
"I lied," Spike said.  
  
"About what?" Buffy said, on guard all of a sudden.  
  
"I told you last year that I'd ate a decorator once, and that maybe something stuck; I lied,"  
  
"About eating the decorator or about something sticking?" Buffy asked, with a grin.  
  
"I'll let you be the judge of that," Spike said, with a smirk.  
  
"Let me show you to your bedroom, then we can sit on my 'newish' leather couch and enjoy the fireplace, if you'd like," Spike offered.  
  
"Okay, lead the way."  
  
Spike took picked up her overnighter that was by the front door and lead her through the living room to the room to the right of the fireplace. He opened the door to a large room that had a white, four poster bed, with a white, flowered, old fashioned looking blanket atop it.   
  
It had a small dresser with a framed mirror above it. The room also had a larger chest of drawers and a small desk.  
  
"There's a bathroom over there," Spike said, pointing to a small door, "it's between the bedrooms, but there's a lock on both doors inside doors, so when you use it..."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"I'll go outside for a minute and make sure that the pilot light's on the water tank."   
  
"See you in a few minutes, then?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, see you in a few minutes," she answered.  
  
He left her then, closing the door to her bedroom.  
  
She looked around the room for a few minutes, touching the desk, looking in the empty drawers, using the bathroom. Finally, she decided to change out of her clothes. She was just going to change into another sweater, but then decided that she'd just put on her flannel nightgown and a robe, then decided that would be too warm, and put on the shorty. With a robe!  
  
"Not like he hasn't seen me in pajamas, or less!" she thought to herself. "Doesn't mean anything, just getting comfortable."  
  
At the last minute, she changed into a two-piece lavender pair of polyester pajamas. With a robe! Not too sexy, not too flannel!  
  
At the last minute, she remembered about something and grabbed her purse.  
  
Spike was sitting on the couch when she came out. He had changed, too. He had on a loose pair of gray drawstring pants, which he'd probably lifted from Xander. His T-shirt had been exchanged for a bright silky, short blue robe, which was open. Buffy's breath caught for half a second at seeing his chest; muscular, scared, inviting. He was barefooted, too, which for some reason, always made her feel soft towards him. His boots were almost as much a part of him, as his black leather duster had been, but the duster had been gone for a while now, but never the boots. Somehow, Spike, sans boots, seemed so vulnerable.  
  
He stood up as she came out of the bedroom. This small wisp of a girl, with lavender pajama bottoms, sticking out from under a little white fuzzy robe that looked like she'd had it since childhood. She wore little white fuzzy slippers, too.   
  
He smiled, "Fire's getting' goin' pretty good now, pet," he said, getting up and kneeling down in front of it, using the poker to move some wood around to a better position.   
  
Buffy set the purse down on the couch, then came over to where Spike was kneeling. She had this overwhelming urge to touch his hair, run her hands through it, to squat down next to him and hug him to her; any and all of the above, but she resisted, instead just stood next to him. Close, intimate.  
  
Spike felt her when she came up towards him, he always felt her. She was standing so close to him, her legs, her essence, so close he could smell her, drink her in; and the fire, the heat of the fire, was causing her smell to reach him all the more. He felt intoxicated.  
  
If Spike had to pick just one thing, one extrasensory aspect about being a vampire, that he relished the most, that he would never want to give up, it would be the ability to smell the delectable scents of a woman, of Buffy.   
  
Neither was it just what every man appreciates and recognizes as a woman's scents; her perfume, her shampoo, the sweat under her arms, the wetness between her legs...No, this was more, it was as if he could read each molecule of her essence. Each emotion she felt, each thought, each intention had it's own molecular marker that he could track like a trail of breadcrumbs. It wasn't something he even did consciously all of the time, but it was always there, always alerting him to just how she felt, what she wanted, what she might desire; the possibilities.   
  
He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled Buffy's womanly scent, so near, but yet so out of reach. He gave the fireplace a final poke and stood up slowly, facing her. She turned, looking at him, feeling the heat of the fireplace, the firelight that reflected in his eyes.  
  
Abruptly the moment ended as Spike turned and walked over to the couch, sitting down and patting the seat, that she might do the same.  
  
"I should check up on the home front," she said.  
  
"Already did that when you were changing, luv. Here, it's all set up. Just turn on this button, phone's already hooked up," Spike said, showing her how to switch views from room to room back at her house.  
  
"I really should probably check this about once an hour," Buffy said.  
  
"Let me do that for you, Buffy. You're here to relax. Can't see you sleeping very well, if every hour you have to wake up to check this. I can do this for you, I want to," Spike said.  
  
"But Spike, you won't get any sleep that way either. Maybe we could take turns or something," she suggested.  
  
"No, tonight I'm on watch, Slayer, er, sorry, Buffy. I can easily wake up every hour and have a look-see, just have to tell myself to do so. Probably even set the bloody thing to beep at me, if you don't think I can be trusted," Spike said.  
  
"I trust you. Thank you, Spike," Buffy said, relieved in more ways than she cared to express to have this responsibility taken from her shoulders, even if only for a few hours.  
  
"Oh, I forgot," Buffy said, reaching for her purse. She took the book out and handed it to him, "Here, Spike, I bought this for you when I was upstairs at The Rittenhouse. I couldn't read what year it is; it's in Roman Numerals, something I think I learned and forgot back in fourth grade. In any case, I hope you like Shakespeare, The Complete Works of," Buffy said, watching Spike's face as it lit up, like a little boy at Christmastime.  
  
Spike took the book from her hand like it was made of glass. He opened the front cover, inside which was written, "To William, From Elizabeth, February 14, 2003"  
  
"You bought this for me?" he asked with a sort of wonder in his voice, looking at her. He didn't remember the last time somebody had bought him a gift. Sure, he'd gotten the furnishings from Edna, and Dru use to bring him all sorts of strange gifts, like puppies to eat, but an actual store bought-paid-by-cash-gift? Never. It was also something that he never expected Buffy to do for him.  
  
He looked away, before he could start to get choked up. He opened the next page and read the Roman Numerals, "It says 1878, it's really quite old, hope you didn't pay too much for it, luv," he said.  
  
"Do you like it?" Buffy asked, not quite sure what the 'quite old,' meant in terms of satisfaction.  
  
"Oh God yes! It's lovely Buffy, just lovely," Spike said, as he fingered the old leather binding, "it's the nicest thing anyone has ever bought me."  
  
She turned away, embarrassed. If this was the nicest thing...Poor Spike!  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I forgot, I got you something, too; when I was waiting for you," Spike said, taking the velvet box out from the pocket of his robe and handing it to her, "here," he said, not quite making eye contact with her.  
  
"For me?"  
  
He nodded, still holding out the purple, velvet, heart shaped box to her.  
  
Buffy took it from him and opened it. Her eyes grew moist as she saw the beautiful, delicate, lovebird necklace. She took it from the box, gently tracing the shape of the lovebirds within the heart, and the cloisonné flowers. Now it was her turn to get misty-eyed as she turned to Spike.  
  
"It's beautiful, Spike, I don't know what to say."  
  
"You like it, then?"  
  
"No."  
  
"No?" he said, with a sinking feeling, waiting for her to give it back to him, say something about why she couldn't,...  
  
"I don't like it; I love it," Buffy said, then she leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Spike," she whispered in his ear.  
  
Spike silently sighed with relief.  
  
"Help me on with it?" she asked, as she sat back up and turned sideways on the couch, holding up her hair with one hand.  
  
Spike took the necklace from her and put it over her head gently, then secured the clasp.  
  
She felt the necklace softly fall into place a couple of inches above her breasts. She turned around to face him as she looked down, "How does it look?" she asked him.  
  
Spike looked at the necklace, and the couple of inches above Buffy's breasts, appreciatively, "Nice, looks real nice," he said shyly.  
  
"Matches my pajamas perfectly, doesn't it? Hey, were you going through my stuff again, were you?" she joked, playfully hitting him in the ribs.  
  
"No, gave that up some time ago, luv," he answered.   
  
She was still looking down admiring the necklace when Spike stood up to put another log on the fire. When he was finished, he took the heavy rug that lay between them and the fireplace and pulled it up to the edge of the couch. He sat down, back against couch and looked up at her.  
  
Buffy scooted to the front of the couch, then slid down to the floor so that she was sitting next to Spike.  
  
They sat there watching the fire for a couple of minutes in silence.  
  
"This is nice," Spike said.  
  
"Ummmhmmm," Buffy agreed.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"What, luv?"  
  
"How much time have you spent here, at this house?"  
  
"Oh, let me see...over the years? Maybe a total of 2 months or so," he answered, "a couple of days here and there."  
  
"That's all?" Buffy asked, surprised. "Why not more? You've got this lovely house, money..."  
  
"I don't know, Buffy. Seemed like the house is something else, I don't know, something that's almost outside of myself; outside of my nature. Vampire, you know, couldn't just live here, like a man...I needed other things, the kill, the violence, happy meals with legs, even the company of other demons. You know these things about me," Spike said, his voice strained.  
  
poor spikey - can't be a human, can't be a vampire - where the hell do you fit in?  
  
"Look, can we not talk about this anymore?" he asked.  
  
"Okay," Buffy said, leaning up against him, hopefully reassuring her that she wasn't there to either probe or judge him. Not here. Not anymore, not after what he'd done for her, the lengths he'd gone...  
  
And so they sat there, side-by-side, watching the fire and talking of small things for the next hour.   
  
Spike looked over at Buffy, her eyes were closed and he knew she was almost asleep.  
  
Poor Slayer, all done in.  
  
"Buffy?" he said, shaking her gently.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Time to go to bed. Um, you're tired, you should go to bed and get some sleep," he stood up and extended his hand to her.  
  
"Yeah, you're probably right," she answered, letting him help her up.  
  
They were standing in front of the fireplace, between the two bedrooms, "Goodnight Buffy, sleep well. And don't worry about the house, I'll keep watching," Spike said.  
  
She turned to look at him, so unreal in this setting, "Goodnight, Spike," she said, once again, taking the initiative to kiss him on the cheek, "Thank you, for everything," she said as she went into the bedroom.   
  
She turned down the covers and crawled into bed. She was sort of sad that Spike hadn't even suggested to her that she might want to share his bed. Of course, she would tell him, "NO," but none-the-less...she drifted off to sleep.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 13 


	14. MY EYES ARE CLEAR

CHAPTER 14 - MY EYES ARE CLEAR  
  
Buffy had only been asleep for a couple of hours when she woke up, heart pounding from the usual nightmare, revisited, "Spike!" she had screamed in her dream right before bolting upright in bed.  
  
She looked around, taking stock of where she was, then decided to get up and splash some cold water on her face.  
  
As Buffy stood in the doorway of the bathroom, she saw it; a little light flickering between two pieces of wood, not quite fitted against each other. She walked quietly across the bathroom floor, until she came to the sliver of light. She could barely see him at first, but then as her eyes grew accustomed to the candleglow, that had first attracted her, she could make him out.   
  
Spike was lying in bed, tossing and turning. Suddenly, he threw the covers off, groaning as he lay there naked. Buffy held her breath, afraid he'd sensed her, but he didn't look her way. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him run his hands down his chest, his stomach, finally to his cock. He rubbed himself gently at first, then quickened the pace as his erection quickly grew to its full length. She could see the glistening shimmer of pre-cum as she watched as he fondled himself, stoked himself again and again, before he finally convulsed in orgasm. As he did, she heard him softly moan one word, "Buffy!"  
  
Buffy bit down hard on her bottom lip and backed quickly out of the room, before she sobbed aloud. In the past she would have felt revulsion at even thinking about him doing this, pleasuring himself, probably with some picture of herself or intimate article of clothing he'd nicked from her bedroom. But not now. Now it was breaking her heart.  
  
did you make me weak, thinking of you, holding myself, and spilling useless buckets of salt over your... ending?  
  
The tears came as Buffy put her hands to her face. Useless buckets of tears, useless seed, useless torture, useless love...for her. Tears flowed, flowed thinking of him laying there; his passion and love for her unclaimed, unbidden, abandoned - like this beautiful house was.  
  
"Fuck this! No. Fucking. More!" she said, as she dried her eyes and walked out of her bedroom and into Spike's.  
  
"Buffy? What is it, luv? Bad dream? Everything's okay at the house, just checked," Spike said, staring at Buffy who'd walked right up to his bed.  
  
"Shut up, Spike," she said softly and crawled into bed with him.  
  
Spike lay on his side, towards her as she nuzzled up close to him.  
  
Wants more comfort, he told himself. Alright then! Bird's got to have what the bird's got to have. Never could deny her anything.  
  
Before he could form another coherent or not so, thought, Buffy leaned into him, kissing him softly on the lips. Shocked, Spike didn't respond for a few seconds, but then he was kissing her back, falling into a beautiful aura of sensation that was starting to surround them. Lips, kissing, heat, aura.  
  
Coming back to earth for a second, Spike broke off the kiss, gently taking hold of her shoulder and pushing her back a few inches, "Buffy, do you know what you're doing?" he asked, giving her the chance to come to her senses.  
  
Buffy looked at him, with a look he'd only seen one other time; the night she'd come to rescue him from The First.  
  
"I do know, Spike, maybe for the first time since you've known me, I do know; my eyes are clear," she said, putting her hand up to caress his face, "I'm kissing the man that I love," she said, leaning back in for another delicious, all-enveloping kiss.  
  
"That you love?" his voice asked, almost cracking; breaking the kiss again, holding her off to look into her eyes in wonder.  
  
Buffy did not waver as she looked at him, and slowly, effortlessly, maneuvered her lithe body atop his, the lovebird necklace hanging from her neck to lie on top his chest, "Yes," she said looking in his eyes, kissing him softly between each word,   
"I." kiss, "Love." kiss, "You." kiss, "Spike."   
  
"You love me?" he repeated, unbelieving; afraid to believe.  
  
Buffy nodded her head, "Yes. I love you." kiss "And if this man would still like; I'd like to be his girl," she said, kissing him deeply, as her body, atop his, moved on its own accord. Up and down, feeling his once again, full erection.  
  
"My girl? My girl! Oh God, Buffy!" Spike groaning, grinning, grabbing her face, kissing her back as fully as he wanted, as she wanted, finally giving in to the incomprehensible, and the unbelievable, Love claimed and bidden, by her, by them.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 14 


	15. W E

CHAPTER 15 - W E  
It was late when she finally got to bed, she grabbed her nightcap and put it on, crawling into bed, "Right old granny, I am," she chuckled, "ah well, old habits die hard, and it's right chilly in this old place."  
  
He came to her, as he often did, after she'd been asleep for only a few minutes. The dreams would last hours and she always looked forward to them. Sometimes they went back to the old country, sometimes they were young, other times older, sometimes even, he would appear to her, as he would have looked, if only he hadn't died so long ago.  
  
As always, she asked, upon first seeing him, "Is it time for me to join you yet?"  
  
"No darling, not yet. But we'll just have our normal visit, like always. Where would you like to go tonight?"  
  
"I think I'm right happy here tonight, is that alright. No wait, let me see where you got it, when you gave it to me," she said.  
  
"Oh, you knew I'd know about it."  
  
"Can't hide anything from you, Lawrence," Edna said.  
  
"No, you're a right open book, ye are," he said laughing.  
  
"So, tell me all about it; about them," Lawrence coached.  
  
"Ah, it's been so long since I'd seen him, but you know him, never changes anything but the clothes and the hair. But there was something different about him this time. Can't quite put my finger on it; it was like he was softer, somehow. A little less afraid to be kidded with, approached. Ach, I don't know what I'm talkin' about," she said.  
  
"Yes you do, you've always known that your Master William was a..."  
  
"Don't say it!"   
  
"Loner, Edna, just going to say loner,"  
  
"No, he's not a loner. Lonely is what he's been, always lonely. Guess his type always is..."  
  
"But he wasn't alone tonight?" Lawrence asked.  
  
"No, that was so exciting. In all these years, never seen him, nor his father or grandfather with anyone what-so-ever, but tonight," she said, her eyes shining, "tonight he brought a lovely lass with him; Elizabeth!"  
  
"Nice name,"   
  
"Yes, it is. She's a lovely lass, smart, bright and he loves her so much!"  
  
"He told you?"  
  
"Of course not; not his way, but I can tell!" Edna said.  
  
"And her?" Lawrence asked.  
  
"Yes, I do believe that she loves Master William with all her heart, although I could tell that he doesn't quite know that yet, but I have a feeling he soon will."  
  
"You've always been so romantic, Edna," Lawrence said, chuckling.  
  
"Oh, you were, too!" Edna said, taking his hand.  
  
"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Elizabeth found that old Shakespeare book; she bought it for him."  
  
"Ah, the one I hid up on the top shelf, I remember," he said, reflecting for a moment, "glad to see someone will get some pleasure out of it."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"And the necklace?" he asked her gently.  
  
"Ah, the necklace. See, Master William thought it was for sale; the sign had fallen off of the door, so he just thought it was another part of the shop," she explained.  
  
"I see. But won't you miss it, dear?" Lawrence asked.  
  
"I'll always see it, whenever I want to; just have to close my eyes," she said, hugging him, "I'm just so glad that it's going to have a whole new life of it's own. Two lovebirds; that's what they are, you know? Master William was so pleased to have found something for Elizabeth, I just didn't have the heart to tell him it wasn't for sale."  
  
"I know, dear, I know," he said, putting his arm around her.  
  
"Did he look at the back of it?" Lawrence asked her.  
  
"The back? Oh, the letters, W E? No, he didn't. I never knew why you didn't use the name that you always went by," she said.  
  
"I just thought I should be formal about it, since it was an engagement present for you, that's why I had them put the 'W,' for Wallace."  
  
"Wallace Lawrence McKennitt," she said, "it's a nice name."  
  
"I just thought of something. Do you realize that those letters go with their name, too?" he asked her.  
  
"William and Elizabeth," she just said and smiled.  
  
"Ah, you knew all along, didn't you? Well, shall we be off on our travels then, dear?" Lawrence asked her.  
  
"Oh, yes! Please let's go! I can hardly wait to see it all again," Edna said, and taking his hand, they once again embarked on their nightly travels.   
  
END OF CHAPTER 15 


	16. NEVER SO SWEET

CHAPTER 16 - NEVER SO SWEET  
  
"Love you, love you so much!" Spike said, between kisses.  
  
"Spike," she sighed, through ragged breaths. Her body responded to his with a memory of its own. Every nerve ending, every muscle, every hair, every orifice had its own memories, had their own desires to be touched, tasted, licked; to be loved by this man. Spike, who was at the moment, physically beneath her, but not in spirit, not in his capacity to be good, to love and be loved. His capacity for those things, she realized was limitless.  
  
Buffy had started this on top of Spike, with him beneath her, but she was determined that it wouldn't end up that way, not tonight. She stopped kissing him long enough to look in his eyes; eyes filled with wonder. Before, when he'd looked at her like that it just had made her uncomfortable to know that she had so much power over him. Power that she'd abused. But not anymore. Her eyes, she hoped, reflected back the same wonder that his showed. Wonder that finally, she'd found her heart, and her heart was Spike.   
  
Around to the front of her pajamas, he brought his almost shaking hands, to undo the buttons and free her from the top. Discarded, his hands reached up to tentatively cup each her of her breasts, his thumbs gently kneading her nipples. She moaned in pleasure, closing her eyes as she felt herself grow weak with pure desire.   
  
He pulled her down; his head nestled between her breasts as she straddled him, moving up and down against him, her silky pajama bottoms the only thing between them.  
  
Looking into her eyes, he glanced down at the necklace that rested on his chin. He put his hand underneath the chain to lift it up and look at it. As he glanced back at her, Buffy put her hand in his hand and squeezed hard, feeling the imprint of the necklace between both of their hands. Her mouth sought out his, as his hands went around her.  
  
Buffy gasped, as Spike rolled them over, so that she was now on the bottom, his full weight on her, his desire, pressing almost painfully between her legs.  
  
"Buffy," he whispered as he kissed her neck, her ear, her collarbone, then made his way down to her breasts.   
  
As each new, yet old, familiar sensation coursed through her body, her back arched in anticipation. She could no more have stopped the movement of her body than could a mother in the throes of giving birth; autonomic nervous system, fully engaged.  
  
Spike kissing her breasts, now shifted his body a little, starting to kiss her stomach, her belly button. His mouth rested on the skin just above the waistband of her pajama bottoms as his hand slipped down the front of them.  
  
He felt like his hand might catch on fire, from the heat that Buffy was giving off, "God, you're so hot, so wet, so hot," he murmured, as he brought his head down over the front of her bottoms, as his fingers found out just how hot she was.  
  
"Wait! Stop!" she said suddenly, almost out of her mind with desire by now.  
  
Spike froze, as if he'd been hit with a two-by-four. He was immediately taken back to the awful night in the bathroom when he'd tried to rape her. He felt the room spinning, as he forgot where he was. All he knew, was that he'd done something awful again, monster, not a man, soul or not...  
  
He bolted upright, scaring Buffy. She looked at him scared, which only made his reaction worse.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated, starting to shake and mumble about, 'not hurting the girl,' until she realized just what she had done to him that moment before.  
  
"Spike. Spike!" she said, trying to get his attention.  
  
Spike looked at her, laying there almost totally naked, while his brain tried to remember what had happened causing her to yell out to him. What besides the fact that he was hurting her again, trying to make her do something she didn't want again...  
  
Buffy got up on her knees and put her arms around him, "Spike," she said softly, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, or to make you feel that you were doing something wrong or hurting me," she said to him.  
  
Spike looked at her, her little naked breasts pressed against his chest, eyes looking with love into his.  
  
Slowly he regained his composure, his grip on the present, not the past, as he shuddered slightly, "What it, luv? What was wrong? I thought you were enjoying the way I was...."  
  
"Oh my God, Spike, I was, I was!" she said, her eyes tearing up, thinking what she'd put him through.   
  
"I just, I just..."  
  
"What, Buffy?"  
  
"I just..." she reached down and softly touched his cock, "I just want to feel you inside me, Spike. That's all, I just want you inside me for tonight," Buffy said, looking him in the eyes.  
  
Could there have been any more perfect words spoken in this world? To him? Ever?  
  
"Ahhh, Buffy," he said, kissing her, "luv, Buffy!"   
  
He gently laid her down, as he got on top of her, his hand pulled off her bottoms.  
  
Her hand still holding him, she led him homeward.  
  
And with a small moan, he was in. He closed his eyes, as her heat enveloped him, burned him, consumed him, made him want to weep.  
  
Buffy cried out in pleasure, her hips rising to meet his thrusts, her body seeking out more and more, the pleasure of him, filling her up, making her whole. She didn't want to be on top anymore, not in the metaphorical sense, or even the physical. Not tonight. Tonight was about letting herself be possessed, be loved, be claimed.  
  
Her mouth sought his out and Spike slowed down his thrusts, so as to kiss her good and proper. He couldn't believe this was the same girl that had so ravenously fucked him last year.  
  
It had never been this sweet. Never had been really sweet at all, she'd never allowed it. Never let him love her, be tender with her, touch her sweetly; touch her face, her hair. She'd fucked him like she fought him; rough and to the point.  
  
Only the one time that she'd allowed him to handcuff her, had he been free to shower her with his 'unwanted' affections.   
  
Buffy felt like it was the first time. And in a way, it was. She was almost overwhelmed by this kind of lovemaking; the kind where Spike is looking into her eyes like she's God's gift and she almost believes that maybe she is, at that. She'd never felt more beautiful or desired than she did at this moment. Never.   
  
She put her arms around his neck, "I love you, Spike," she whispered, hoping he knew that she did, hoping that he knew that he'd done enough already to win her, to atone, to be worthy of her. Worthy, what a joke! She'd been the one who hadn't always been worthy.  
Yet, still, he had loved her. Through thick and thin, good, bad, terrible, and worse, still.   
  
"Love you ," she said, her lips coming up from his neck, to find his lips again. Soft lips of Spike. Spike lips.  
  
Hands in her hair, on her face, homeward bound, "God I love you , Buffy!" Spike said, kissing her passionately, his tongue exploring her tasty, sweet mouth; candy, sweet like candy. Giving her candy to me.   
  
Spike resumed his thrusts and they each moaned and groaned as their mutual passions crested like the ocean tides.   
  
"Buffy, do you want me to help you along? Help you come?" he asked, as he put his hand down between them.  
  
"I, it, matter, don't, care, I, oh, Spike, god, oh, no just you, only you in me," Buffy tried to explain.  
  
Spike removed his hand and thrust into her again and again. Deeper and deeper, until she could feel see lights sparking behind her eyelids, feel the rise and fall of desire so great it swept her like the ocean tide, until she felt the the sudden flush of warmth, and the even greater hardness, that was him; letting her know, that he too had arrived on the opposite shore.  
  
He lay there on top her and she wished it could be that way forever. Him inside her, completing her, making her whole, and all the other corny cliches she'd only read, but never experienced. Don't move, don't go away. Ever. Stay. In me, on me, near me. Always. Arms wrapped tightly around him. Not alone, not anymore. No more self-induced abstinence from love for her. No more pining for her by him. No more alone, no more lonely.  
  
Spike stirred, raising his head to look at her, "You okay, luv?"   
  
"Uh-hmm," she said, pulling him back down.  
  
He laughed, "Have to move sometime, pet."  
  
"No, never," she said, "have to stay this way."  
  
because I'm not ready for you to not be here  
  
He raised up his head to kiss her, "Love you."  
  
"Love, you too, Spike."  
  
"Maybe this would be better, won't be crushing you," he said, pulling her over on top of him, before she could protest.  
  
"Ummmm, this good, too," she said sleepily.  
  
He reached down and pulled the covers up over her, wrapping them both up in warmth and satiety.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 16 


	17. MORNING SURPISES

CHAPTER 17 - MORNING SURPISES  
  
Buffy half woke up, groggy, but with the feeling of being warm, enveloped. She half opened her eyes to find herself now on her side, curled up to Spike's back. She could hear him dialing up the phone-modem thingy. It was 8:30 A.M.   
  
Spike felt her stir, "Go back to sleep, luv. Just checking on things. Everything's fine. Girls lining up outside the bathroom, Giles making tea, Willow and Kennedy having some coffee on the couch. Go back to sleep."  
  
"I should let them know I'm ok," Buffy said, sleepily.  
  
"Already did, IM'd Willow. Told her you were fine, just sleeping and that you'd sign on later."  
  
"Thank you," she mumbled, nuzzling in closer to his back and putting her arm around his chest, her face into the back of his neck.   
  
She heard him sigh, as she kissed the back of his neck and ran her tongue softly over his earlobe. She rubbed his chest, her hand going a little lower with each time, until it was just over his naval. She could feel him getting aroused by the way his body tensed up and pushed back into hers.  
  
He reached behind him to cup her bottom through the covers and lightly began rubbing it. She was now getting deliciously aroused out of sleep.  
  
He gave her an unexpected final pat and turned back to his side, taking her hand away from his stomach, brought it up to his mouth and gently kissed it, then brought it to rest under his, on his chest.   
  
"Later, luv, later. Going to love you all right and proper, going to love you like you've never been loved. But now you sleep some more," Spike said, turning over to face her, he kissed her gently on the mouth.  
  
She nuzzled into him, legs and arms entwining with his, head to chest, as close as was humanly (and vampirely) possible to get.  
  
"Okay," she said groggily and fell soundly back to sleep; safe and warm in his arms.  
Two hours later, she felt Spike start to get up.   
  
"Don't go," she said.  
  
"Be back, luv. Just going to get you some breakfast," Spike said.  
  
"Don't want breakfast, just you."  
  
"You got me. Always. But I want my girl to have lots of energy for the day ahead," he said, standing up, drawing up the covers to her neck and planting a kiss on her forehead.  
  
"Why's that, Spike?" she said, grinning.  
  
"Well, besides the fact that I want to fuck you into the next century?" he said, grinning right back, eyebrow arched wickedly, "Oh, there's some things that I want to show you around here. Never had a guest before."  
  
"Oh, okay," Buffy said with a false pout.  
  
"Do you want breakfast in bed, or do you want to come out to the kitchen to eat?" he asked.  
  
"Kitchen will be okay. You don't have to do this, I can fix something, you know," she said.  
  
"I know, but I want to. You're my guest. I've been moochin' off you at your house enough, time for me to be the host, okay?" Spike asked.  
  
"Okay, I'll let you," Buffy said, giggling.  
  
It made him happy to hear her laugh. She didn't do that much these days. Not at all, in fact.  
  
"I'll call you when it's done, pet," Spike said, as he walked out the bedroom door.  
  
"Okay," Buffy answered.  
  
While Spike was busy in the kitchen, Buffy lie there and listened to the sounds of the birds she could hear outside, the sounds of the breakfast-making goings on. She didn't know when she'd felt so good, so stress-free. Sure, it was just temporary, but she was damned if she wasn't going to enjoy it! She didn't even remember the last time she'd heard birds. Were they still around in Sunnydale, or was she just so preoccupied with all that had, was, and was still going to go on that she didn't even hear them anymore.  
  
Time to stop moping. She rose and sat on the side of the bed. She could just start to smell coffee and food and her stomach gurgled in anticipation.  
  
One more thing to do, before breakfast. She dialed up the phone-modem-laptop and got IM'd Willow, who luckily was online.  
  
Slayer1: you there Wil?  
Wicca1: Buffy, how are you?  
Slayer1: hungry  
Wicca1: oh?  
Slayer1: breakfast is being cooked as I speak  
Wicca1: a vampire of many talents  
Slayer1: no comment  
Wicca1: :):):):):)????:):):):)  
Slayer1: ok, got to go, everything's ok?  
Wicca1: fine, no problems  
Slayer1: how's Dawn?  
Wicca1: staying at Janice's for the weekend  
Wicca1: already talked to her this morning, going   
to the mall with Janice and her mom  
Slayer1: fun for her, does she have money?  
Wicca1: yeah, stopped by the house and I gave her   
$10 and Xander gave her $20, think even Giles gave  
her $10 or $20  
Slayer1: oh, God, you guys shouldn't have!  
Wicca1: we don't mind, it's something for the greater  
good, right?  
Slayer1: greater good?  
Wicca1: like your weekend - a chance to be normal  
Slayer1: normal, yeah, like that sound  
Wicca1: forgot to tell you, Wood called  
Slayer1: when?  
Wicca1: yesterday, right after you left, wanted to   
Know why you were a 'no show' on the job  
Slayer1: shit, totally forgot, what'd you tell him?  
Wicca1: usual b.s., hard night slayin' now that he knows  
about it, it was a good excuse, true, too  
Slayer1: suppose he wondered why I didn't call  
Wicca1: probably, do you care  
Slayer1: only that I don't get fired, but otherwise, NO!  
Wicca1: I see...:):):):):)????:):):):)  
Slayer1: STOP, I BEG YOU, STOP!!!  
Wicca1: when you coming back? tonight?  
Slayer1: tomorrow night, probably  
Wicca1: good, good for you  
Slayer1: Giles pissed?   
Wicca1: I'll ask him, GILES...  
Slayer1: NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
Wicca1: ROTFLMAO  
Slayer1: ha-ha  
Slayer1: ok, got to go, breakfast calls, love to everyone  
Wicca1: have fun  
Slayer1: intend to, educational, of course  
Wicca1: of course, bye  
Slayer1: bye - love you Willow, thanks  
Wicca1: love you, too, Buffy, you're welcome  
  
Buffy walked through the connecting bathroom, took a quick shower, then dressed and came out for breakfast.  
  
Spike came out of the kitchen just as she was coming through the dining room.  
  
"Just coming to get you. All showered, I see," he said.  
  
"Yep, fresh as a daisy now," she answered.  
  
"Come on, got your coffee and some eggs, bacon, and toast for you," he said, taking her arm, "but first you have to close your eyes, got a surprise for you."  
  
"Surprise? What?"   
  
"Not a surprise if I tell, now is it? Come on now, close 'em!"  
  
She closed her eyes and let Spike lead her to the kitchen; she heard a door being opened. He led her through it, then opened a second one. Buffy felt a gust of cool air against her face.  
  
"Okay, open 'em," he said.  
  
She opened her eyes, and stood there mouth open, as she stared at about 3" of freshly fallen snow. It was the first real snow she had seen since she'd been about 5 and had gone to the mountains with her parents; except for that freak snowfall in Sunnydale about 4 years ago.  
  
"Snow!"  
  
"Yeah, happened overnight. What do you think?"  
  
"It's beautiful, like a Christmas card," she said, as she stepped down the stairs to stand in the snow, forgetting that she was barefoot, she hopped back and forth from one foot to the other, laughing.  
  
Spike just stood there smiling, watching Buffy obviously enjoying herself.  
  
"Think you'd better get back here before your footsies get frost-burned," he said, laughing.  
  
"Frost-burned? Isn't that an oxymoron," Buffy said, stooping to pick up some snow, making it into a snowball and lobbing it at Spike.  
  
"Don't make me come down there and get you!" he warned.  
  
She threw another one.  
  
"That's it, you're in trouble now, missy!" he said, as he leaped off the porch and came running at her, grabbing a handful of snow as he did.  
  
Shrieking, she ran around the house, with Spike in full pursuit.  
  
"She screamed as he hit her in the back with the snowball.  
  
She slowed down, just long enough for him to grab her and tackle her onto the ground.  
  
Giggling, she rolled over on top him, throwing snow up into his face, "Spike, you'd make a good snowman," she said, laughing.   
  
Looking at him seriously, she said, "I've never made a snowman."  
  
He gently tossed some snow at her, "Well, then AFTER breakfast, we shall do just that!"  
  
"Spike! OH MY GOD, SPIKE!" Buffy gasped, looking at him, green eyes large.  
  
"What? What is it?" he asked, leaning up on his elbow, concerned at he tone.  
  
"It's YOU, you're outside. It's daylight!"  
  
"Surprise number two, luv," he said smiling. 


	18. THE HEART OF WILLIAM

CHAPTER 18 - THE HEART OF WILLIAM  
  
"How?"   
  
"I'll tell you once you're back inside, having your breakfast, which is getting cold as we speak, and you're all nice and warm again, ok?" he said, getting up and picking up Buffy like a sack of potatoes.  
  
"Stop," she laughed, "I can walk."  
  
"Nope, enough cold, wet snow on me-lady, for now!" he said, and carried her back into the house, through the kitchen, dining room, living room, and to the door of her bedroom.  
  
"Now go change, like a good girl!" he said, setting her down, giving her a gentle push on her behind, into the bedroom.  
  
"Tell me, Spike!"  
  
"After you change. I'm going to re-warm your breakfast for now," he said walking away.  
  
"Aren't you going to change, too?"  
  
"After breakfast; cold and wet doesn't really bother me," he said, as he walked into the kitchen.  
  
'Obviously, not the daylight around here, either,' Buffy mused to herself, as she walked into the bedroom.  
  
A couple of minutes later, she reappeared in the kitchen.  
  
Expecting more of the Victorian look, she almost laughed when she walked into the kitchen. It had a small, old-fashioned linoleum covered table, chrome outside around the edges and two chairs, obviously a throwback to the 60's. Along the opposite wall from the door to the porch and outside, there was a much older 30's style stove and Fridgedair-type icebox.  
  
The table was set with an odd collection of both antique type dishes and 60's style silverware.  
  
Spike handed her a cup of coffee, "Cream and sugar, right?"  
  
She nodded, as he brought out a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast and set them down.  
  
"Sit, eat," he said, pulling out a chair for her, then sitting opposite her, a cup of coffee and a cup of blood in front of him.  
  
She started to ask him again, but hunger got the better of her, as she dove into her breakfast.  
  
"Good?" he asked her. "Not much of a cook, but I've been watching your resident 'Guestage,' Andrew," he said laughing.  
  
She rolled her eyes, "It's good, really. Best breakfast ever!" she said, stuffing her mouth with a piece of toast.  
  
They made small talk until finally, four eggs, five slices of bacon, and three pieces of toast; she was finished.  
  
She wiped her mouth on her napkin and set it down, "Thank you Spike, that was great, I didn't realize how hungry I was. God, I ate a lot!"  
  
"Yeah, Slayer, I mean Buffy, you sure can put it away, for a little tiny thing," Spike said, laughing at her indignant face she was giving him.  
  
"Okay, Spike. I ate my breakfast, now tell me: how?"  
  
"How I don't do an imitation of a 'burning bush,' you mean, luv?"  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
Spike stood up, "I'll show you," he extended his hand to her.  
  
He walked her through the door leading to the porch and beyond again.  
  
"Remember how I told you that when I sold some of the land for mining, that I made sure the buyers re-forested, re-planted, re-whatever'd you call it, when they were done? Well, as I was building, and remember, it's been over 60 years since this place was first started, I made sure that trees were replanted, too, where they'd been felled. Lots of dense, fast-growing trees," Spike said.  
  
Buffy looked at him questioningly, "What does that have to do with..."  
  
"It's dense, Buffy. Really densely forested around here. I've made sure that over the years, that the trees were close together, that the sun couldn't get through them, not in most places around here anyway; made myself some paths along the densest parts of the forests. I helped the 'density part,' by using some fast-growing types of trees. I even used some thatching techniques the Indians used for roofing, to cover up some areas where the sun would come through the trees; some small areas between them, on some of the paths I made...That's all there is to it, Buffy. Just some tweaking on the fine job 'Mother Nature' made up here and voila! Spike is sun-proofed."  
  
Buffy just looked at him shaking her head in amazement, "But why, Spike, why go to all the bother?"  
  
He looked at her, a puzzled look shadowing his face, "Dunno, pet. Never much thought too deeply about it. Just...sort of...wanted to live more..."  
  
"Like William?" Buffy said softly, finally understanding.  
  
Spike turned quickly away from Buffy, before not before she could see the pain and embarrassment in his face.  
  
you're not a man, you're a thing  
She felt her eyes grow moist; even years ago, soulless Spike the killer vampire, had still possessed, to some degree, the heart of William, his sensibilities, his desires. Even before her, he'd wanted to belong, if only to the world around him in his little forested home. All that work, over the years, just to belong  
  
She came up behind him and put her arms around him, nuzzling his neck, "It's beautiful here, Spike," she said, just holding him.  
  
He felt his turmoil release, at her soft touch as he relaxed into her embrace. He cleared his throat, "So, did you bring some warm socks?" he felt her nod into his neck, "good, we could take a walk then, if you like," again felt her nod in agreement.  
  
He turned around to kiss her willing mouth, desire flooding both of them, turning legs into jelly.  
  
He broke it off, "Later pet, that's a promise, going to..." he groaned, letting her know with his kiss and his tongue, instead of with words.  
  
Finally, he stepped back from her, looking at her with desire, shaking his head, "God Buffy..."  
  
"What?" she said, smiling demurely, and taking a step toward him.  
  
"No, no, none of that, or we'll never get out of the house. Go get ready; some things I want to show you," he said, heading back inside to change.  
  
"Oh, okay," she said a little disappointed. Spike sure was being the paragon of virtue around here this morning and it was killing her. Her body, having once again, experienced the sensation that was Spike, was calling out, no, make that 'throbbing out' for more of the same. 


	19. IT'S NOT FROSTY!

CHAPTER 19 - IT'S NOT FROSTY!  
  
Buffy returned to the kitchen a few minutes later dressed in her warm jacket, leather gloves, a hat, and a pair of hiking boots she'd brought. Spike was already waiting for her, carrying a medium sized backpack with him. He had changed his wet clothes and was wearing a long sleeved black pullover, black jeans, and an old army jacket that she'd never seen before, and of course, his Doc Martens.  
  
"What's in there," she asked nodding toward the backpack.  
  
"You'll see," he answered.  
  
"More surprises, huh?" she said, smiling. He was sure full of surprises over the past day, that was for sure.  
  
"Let's go," he said, opening the porch door for her.  
  
They walked outside, and into the snow covered, tree shaded yard. The temperature had risen somewhat and the snow was beginning to melt away a bit.  
  
"Better make that snowman now, if you want to, before it melts," he said.  
  
"Okay," she said, then paused.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Show me."  
  
He looked at her, questioningly.  
  
"How to do it, I've never made one before," she said, looking sheepish, "I know, underprivileged, snowman making just doesn't come with living in Southern California."  
  
He smiled, putting down the backpack and starting to roll the snow into what would become the bottom of the snowman.  
  
"You do the same, Buffy, then we'll have the middle of him," he said to her.  
  
Buffy bent over and they both rolled the snow into large and medium sized round snowman parts. Once Spike was done with his, he placed hers on top of his. "Now you get to make a head," he told her, "be right back," he said, going inside.  
  
When he came back out he had a carrot in one hand, and an old scarf and hat in another, he looked at her and smiled as she put the head up onto the body, packing in the sides along the bottom, so it would stay.  
  
"Becoming quite the snowman making expert, I see," he said.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Part of the snowman's attire, and his nose; the carrot was in the grocery goody bag from Edna," he said, handing them to her.  
  
Buffy placed the hat on his head then wrapped the scarf around its neck.  
  
"What about his eyes and mouth?" she said, holding onto the carrot.  
  
"Well, don't have any coal...oh, wait, I know," he said, and sprinted back into the house. He came out a few moments later carrying some small, blackened pieces of wood he'd gotten out of the fireplace.  
  
"We'll just break these up and use them, they're almost like coal, black at least."  
  
Buffy took off her gloves and went to work breaking the wood into eye and mouth like pieces. A couple of minutes later, she had made her face for the snowman.  
  
"What do you think?" she asked him, standing back to admire it?  
  
"It's great," he said, "very admiral job, for your first time.  
  
He looked at her as frowned, "What's the matter?" he asked.  
  
"Turn around, don't look!" she instructed.  
  
He shook his head in bemusement and laughed, but turned around, anyway. He could hear her breaking up more pieces of wood.   
  
"Okay, now you can look!" she told him.  
  
He turned around and stared at the snowman, his mouth opening, then roaring with laughter, "I think that is the best snowman I've ever seen!" he exclaimed.  
  
Buffy had replaced two of the round pieces of wood that made up the snowman's mouth, with two pointy ones. She now had a vampire snowman.  
  
"Thought you'd like it!" she said, "I like it much better, myself, in fact," she said, as she bent down, to 'wash' the burnt wood off of her hands with snow, before putting on her gloves, again.  
  
"Spike the Snowman!" she said, patting Snowman Spike on the head, and looking over to smile at the real deal. 


	20. THE TREE

CHAPTER 20 - THE TREE  
  
"Come on, let's go," Spike said to Buffy, as he started walking down the nearest, almost hidden trail.  
  
Leaving the snowman behind, with a fond glance, Buffy followed Spike on the trail. For the most part, they walked along in amiable silence, just enjoying the smell of the pine and fir forest.   
  
"I like this," Buffy said, "it's like a real forest, not all chaparral, all shrubby," Buffy said.  
  
"It is a real forest," Spike said, "but I know what you mean, something more 'real' about it. Something primal about being all surrounded by big, tall trees."  
  
They had been hiking on fairly level terrain, when after about 10 minutes; the trail had rose slightly. After another 10 minutes, Spike said, "But, lest you forget where you are...take a look there," he said pointing to a clearing.   
  
She walked over to it, and gasped. At the precipice, looking off in the distance, maybe 100 miles or more, she saw the desert.  
  
"It's like another world," she said, then after a final glance, she turned; looking back at Spike.  
  
He nodded.  
  
She had come away from the edge and back toward him, "I like this one better," she said, only inches from him.  
  
He nodded again, reaching out to touch her hair, "Me, too," he said, pulling her up close, to kiss her soft, willing mouth.   
  
He groaned. Everything she was doing today, saying to him, was making him crazy with desire, he could hardly wait to get her alone, where he wanted her to be, just one more thing first.  
  
"Buffy," he said, pulling back from her with difficulty, as she was holding on, "don't think you want to get a frost-bitten bum, now do ya?"  
  
"There's lot's of trees," she said, suggestively "nice straight, lean-up against trees."   
  
Spike pulled her to him, kissing her roughly, making her gasp, "You're killing me here, Buffy!"   
  
"Spike," she half whimpered, "please..." she said as she backed him up against the nearest willing tree.  
  
"Oh, fuck. Buffy, sweet Jesus," he moaned, his arms around her then, pulling her in close, hands under her jacket, up under her top, making her breath come in ragged gasps.  
  
She unzipped his pants, freeing him, as he slipped his hands down the front of her pants, making her legs almost give out from underneath her.  
  
"Wait, wait," she gasped. She took a step back, removed one boot and pulled down one pants and panty leg, swinging the pants leg over her arm, so it didn't drag on the ground.  
  
Spike in the meantime, had spotted another tree with lower lying branches. He half carried, half-dragged Buffy, hopping on one, booted foot over to it. He picked her up, and her legs went around him, as her lips sought his out, her body almost singing out joyously as it connected with his.   
  
"Hang onto these," Spike said, using his head to point upward at the branches. She reached up, hooking her arms through them, as Spike thrust into her, holding onto her bottom as the back of his hands scraped along the bark of the tree.  
  
She wanted to let go, run her hands through his hair, over his face, but she knew the consequences of that...falling.  
  
"Buffy, pet, love you, oh God!" Spike said, as he kissed her, holding onto her tight, until they were finished; Buffy, Spike, tree.  
  
She let go of the tree, "I love you," she said, as he let her down.  
  
"Who? Me or the tree?" he asked, in mock jealousy.  
  
"Both, " she said," giggling, as she held onto his shoulder with one hand, and put he panty and pants leg back on with the other, then hopped across the trail with him to retrieve her other boot.  
  
"Bye tree, couldn't have done it without you," Buffy said, giving the tree a fond pat goodbye as they started back on the trail.  
  
"We're going to double back along this other ridge. Have to meet up with Clem," Spike said.  
  
"Okay," Buffy said, as they started hiking.   
  
A couple of minutes later she started snickering.  
  
He looked over at her, caught the look on her face and broke out laughing, too, as he grabbed her hand, "You're incorrigible," he said.  
  
"Yeah, so I am," she said, smiling sweetly at him and squeezing his hand back.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 20 


	21. CLEM

CHAPTER 21 - CLEM  
  
They came down from the ridge and spotted the small cabin in the distance. It looked a lot like Spike's house, only smaller in size and with a much smaller front porch.  
  
Walking up to it, Buffy could already smell brunch being prepared. Spike knocked on the door.  
  
"Buffy! Spike! Come in!" said an apron wearing, smiling Clem.  
  
"Clem," Buffy said smiling, as she gave him a hug, "whatever you're cooking, it smells just delicious!"  
  
"Oh, just some bear, in a urine-yak sauce," he said.  
  
"Oh," Buffy said, smile frozen.  
  
"JUST KIDDING!" Clem said, laughing.  
  
"Oh, thank God!" Buffy said, laughing, too.  
  
"You know, I may be a demon, but I have the heart of an epicure!"  
  
"Yeah, barbecue chicken wings," Spike added, scoffing.  
  
"Not only that Boss, not only that. That's just fun food, I happen to have very refined tastes in real food, too." Clem said.  
  
"Is that right?" said Spike, still laughing.  
  
"That's right! Before you knew me, I had gone to a very famous cooking school in France," Clem said, looking hurt.  
  
"You did?" Buffy asked, after giving Spike a sidelong glare that told him to be quiet.  
  
"I did!"  
  
"When?"  
  
"When I was still human, before I was turned," Clem said.  
  
"Human? You were human Clem? You weren't always a demon?" Buffy asked, amazed. She'd never thought of him as anything but a demon, albeit, a very endearing, sort of gay one.  
  
"Look, why don't you kids come in, have some brunch, then I'll tell you all about it Buffy," he said, taking their coats from them and hanging them on a hook near the front door.  
  
"Great," said Buffy.  
  
"I'll be right back with the food, you guys make yourself at home," Clem said, walking off into the kitchen.  
  
"Need some help in the kitchen, Clem?" Buffy asked.  
  
"No, I got it taken care of, you kids just relax," Clem said as he walked through the swinging door leading into the kitchen.  
  
Clem smiled as he walked into the kitchen. He could smell them on each other as they walked into the cabin. Ah, love! It made him happy to see Spike and Buffy together, finally.  
  
Buffy turned to Spike and smiled at him, "Clem was human?"  
  
Spike nodded, "Yeah," he answered, "just like I was, just like you are," he said, grabbing her for a hug.  
  
She put her face up to his for a kiss, "Ummm," she said, hugging him back, tightly.  
  
Clearing his throat, Clem opened the door to the kitchen, "Brunch is served, come on in," he said.  
  
Buffy and Spike broke away, and came into the kitchen.  
  
Clem's kitchen was furnished more like what she'd imagined Spike's should have looked like, all Victorian. Small, dark, mahogany table, and matching chairs, with velvet padded seats.  
  
Clem saw her taking it all in, "Do you like it?" he asked.  
  
"Very nice," she answered, "Edna?"  
  
"How'd you guess?" he asked, laughing.  
  
"Well, come on, sit down. Let's eat."  
  
Clem proceeded to ladle out a thick bouillabaisse, served along with thick slices of bread. Buffy and Clem's were white, Spike's was decidedly red in color.  
  
"Added some blood to yours, Spike," Clem said.  
  
"Appreciate that, mate," Spike said, picking up his spoon.  
  
"I couldn't decide on whether this would go with white or red, so I settled," Clem said, as he poured them a glass of Merlot.  
  
"Clem! This is delicious!" Buffy exclaimed, after taking a spoonful of the soup.  
  
"Well, thank you, Buffy," Clem said, smiling proudly. "The bouillabaisse, I made on my own, the bread is from Dudley's Bakery in Santa Ysabel; they have the most mouth watering bread in the world!" he said, dreamily.  
  
"Ummm! Have to agree with you, there," Buffy said, biting into a piece.  
  
"How did you, er, go into the bakery? I mean, demon looking," she said, then seeing his face, added, "though, a very cute demon."  
  
"Cute? Thanks Buffy," Clem said, "I can actually revert back to my human face, only it's not so easy. Can't wear it most of the time like Spike can here," he said looking across the table at Spike.  
  
"Really? I had no idea," Buffy said.  
  
"It's...well, it's sort of painful to do it. Watch," Clem said, and with much effort, he turned from his usual, wrinkly self, to an attractive, young, brown haired man, probably in his mid-twenties.  
  
"Clem!" Buffy exclaimed, looking at his human face for the first time, "my gosh, you're even cute as a human!"  
  
"Thanks," he said, groaning as he turned back, breathing hard, "like I said, a rather painful thing for me to do. But very worth it for Dudley's bread," he said, taking a bite.  
  
"Dudley's Bakery, have to remember that," then she turned to Spike, "think we can stop there and get some bread tomorrow, on the way back?"  
  
"Sure," Spike said, not looking at her.  
  
Damn! She'd said the word; back. Back to Sunnydale, back to reality. She didn't want to think of it at all, not today! Instead, she'd gone and blurted the word out.   
  
She reached under the table and rested her hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze, letting him know that for now, she was with him 100%. In the now.  
  
And the now was wonderful.  
  
He took his right hand off of his lap and put it over hers. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to reveal his emotional reaction to the word, back.  
  
Bugger it! He didn't want to be such a wanker. Not like he didn't know that the real world was only a day away, just didn't want to think of it right now. Just for one day, let it be away, over there, not here, not today.  
  
Buffy cleared her throat, "It's all wonderful, Clem," she said.  
  
"Well, thank you, Buffy," he answered. He'd felt some moment of sadness pass between them, at the mention of going home. Poor kids, never had the chance to be anywhere besides Sunnydale; not the best place to have a relationship.  
  
"So, you were human? Tell me," Buffy said.  
  
"Okay," Clem said, wiping the folds of his face off, with his napkin.  
  
"Around the early 40's or so, I had returned from France and had my first job as a cook for the King George Hotel in San Francisco. One night on my way home, I was attacked by demons. I was never so scared. At first I just thought it was some gay boys dressed up in a really strange form of drag. Even back then the gay boys...oh never mind. Anyway, they pulled me into an alley and just about killed me, when Spike, here, saved me."  
  
"You saved Clem?"  
  
Before he could answer, Clem continued, "he sure did, he pulled the demons off of me and killed them right then and there on the spot!"  
  
"Was gonnna kill you, too, if you remember," Spike said.  
  
"Yeah, but you didn't. You let me go," Clem said.  
  
"Why'd you let him go, Spike?" Buffy asked.  
  
"I don't know, just heard this fight, was in a pissed off mood; probably mad at Dru...Anyway, killed the demons and was going to take a chunk out of Clem here, but he was such a young git, just changed my mind," Spike said shrugging.  
  
"Yep, told me to, 'Get the hell out of here,' " Clem said, smiling fondly at the memory.  
  
"What happened then? How did you two become friends?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Well, the demons that had attacked me, had already bitten into me, and had infected me; most demons can't turn someone into what they are, but lucky me," he said, with ever so slightly a bit of irony, "these ones could. Anyway, within a couple of days, I was growing into a totally different type of person; being, as you can see," he said laughing.  
  
"So, by the time Monday comes around, I have to call the hotel up and quit my position. I'd already grown about fifty pounds of extra skin, things are beginning to stick out of my face, whenever I couldn't control my emotions; like what you saw, when I showed the girls at the bar that night."  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
"Anyway, I'm totally confused, lost, scared, I didn't know what to do. I start wandering around the wharf, looking for someone, anyone, any thing; that could give me any sort of answers about what was happening to me. Finally, I run into Spike one night. He's about to kill me, like he did those other demons who had attacked me, when I tell him who I am," Clem said.  
  
"Yeah, I remember. You were a mess, mate," Spike said, taking a drink of his Merlot.  
  
"Well, Spike here gives me some advice on living as a demon, then tells me he's heading off to Julian. Well, I don't have any friends at all anymore. I was alone in the city to begin with; my family from back east was dead; not that they'd been the understanding types. Gay, demon son, not exactly..." he just shook his head.  
  
"So you went with Spike to Julian?" Buffy asked, looking at Spike.  
  
"Not exactly 'went with,' more like, sort of followed him. Watched him rage when he saw that his house hadn't been finished. Watched him confront, then comfort Edna," Clem said, smiling sadly at the memory.  
  
"So how did you find out about him following you?" Buffy asked, looking at Spike.  
  
"I didn't really, not until I came back a year later and had found that some of the house had been further finished. I didn't know what to make of that. Remember; I hadn't started to finish it as of yet, and I knew Edna wouldn't have hired anyone. Only thing I could figure was that some of the original work hadn't been finished yet, and the men had come back. Either that or someone else had designs on taking over the house altogether," Spike said.  
  
He continued, "So, I go to my favorite cave, where I use to stay, and who do you think is holed up there?" he looked toward Clem.  
  
"Of course, at first I'm pissed off, finding him there. Ask him what the hell he thinks he's playin' at, being on my land, messing around with my house? And of course, he tells me he just wanted to help, seeing as I had nobody to do the work for me anymore," Spike said. "So, I thought why not? He was right of course, I needed someone to help me with the building, and him being human rather recently, well, he had more knowledge of that kind of thing than I did."   
  
"And, I," Clem added, "well, I sort of looked on Spike as a sort of protector and mentor. I mean, he did save my life once, and he knew all about how to be a demon." Clem said, looking fondly at an embarrassed Spike.  
  
"That's how you came to work for Spike." Buffy said.  
  
"Yep, that's about it. Over the years, we've pretty much built everything around here ourselves," Clem said, nodding. "Built both houses, the road, even fencing around the inner 10 acres.  
  
"And a fine job, if I do say so myself," Buffy said, smiling at both of them.  
An hour later they were sitting in the living room, drinking Merlot and listening to Clem's latest CD, A Tribute to John Lennon, Rufus Wainwright's version of Across the Universe, wafted from the speakers.  
  
"I like that song," Buffy said.  
  
"Knew the Beatles," Spike said, smugly.  
  
"You're so full of it, Spike!" Buffy said.  
  
"Stake me if I'm lying, Slayer," he said, using the 'other' name, looking hurt.  
  
"No shit?" she asked.  
  
He nodded, "I'll tell you about it one day, "he said, "if you're lucky," he added, with a smirk.  
  
He got up from the couch and returned with his backpack, "Better check up on the kiddies," he said, pulling out her phone and the laptop.  
  
She felt guilty, she'd totally forgotten.  
  
He dialed the connection, "Take a look," he told her, "it's fine."  
  
She took the laptop from him and looked at the various scenes of a Saturday at the very packed Case de Summers. She nodded, handing it back to him.  
  
Just then she heard the beep of the IM. She looked at Spike.  
  
"Wanna take that?" he asked her.  
  
She shrugged, "Who is it?"  
  
"Dunno pet, says it's from a 'RWSDHS,' mean anything to you?" he asked, handing her back the laptop.  
  
RWSDHS: Buffy, are you there? I got your IM from Giles  
  
Buffy took about a half second to figure out who it was from - Robin Wood!  
  
"It's Robin, the principal," she said quietly to Spike."  
  
"Oh," he said, getting quiet.  
  
"He said that Giles gave him my IM. Damn that Giles," she said, hoping Spike knew that she wasn't at all happy to hear from Wood.  
  
They both knew that meant that Wood probably knew that Buffy was away. With him.  
  
"Aren't you going to answer him?" Spike asked.  
  
"Spike, I....I don't..."   
  
"You sort of have to, don't you?" he asked her softly.  
  
She could feel his emotions warring within him, as shadows crossed his face. He was willing to sacrifice for her, even if it meant giving a part of her up; share her; if they, if someone else needed her; didn't even feel the right to claim all of her attention, all of her affections for even a single day. He'd brought her here for her own sake, selflessly. And that act, the final straw-breaking-the-camel's-back-act, along with all his other ones lately, had finally, irrevocably, cinched the deal for her. The journey had been long -from her questioning if she really did love him, and even if she did, should she do anything, say anything about it, to finally giving herself permission to do what was in her own self-interest for once. Hers and his; and still, here he was, still doubting that he was even worth such a little amount of her full attention...  
  
"No, Spike. I really don't," she said, clicking off the connection.   
  
She looked a surprised Spike in the eyes, "I don't have to answer to anybody today but myself. MYSELF and MY conscience," she said, taking his hand, "and my conscience is clear. I don't owe anybody any explanations of my whereabouts, my decisions, or my time."  
  
"I'm your girl," she said tightly gripping his hand, as if trying to make him understand, silently pleading for him to, "nobody else's; your girl!"  
  
I could never be your girl  
  
My girl.  
  
that's my girl, put it all on me   
  
The words she'd spoken to him last night and now again; the very implication simply stunned Spike speechless. All those times last year calling her that; almost taunting her as they'd dripped off of his tongue, like a combination of venom and honey. She'd recoiling from them; from him. And him, not even realizing the depth of what they meant to either of them.  
  
Now they'd become her words. She'd said she wanted to be "his girl," made a choice to come up here, share his house, his bed, his love...after all this time and all the wrong choices each of them had made, especially him, and she chose him. Over the principal, nice, normal, the well dressed, smelling good, on the right side of the fight principal. She chose him. Over what was sure to be Giles' displeasure. She chose him.   
  
Him.  
  
His girl.  
  
He drew himself up. Proudly, even, "My girl," he echoed back to her. "Okay Buffy," he said to her. He'd never let her down, never hurt her; fight along side her to his death, if that was what it took, "okay."  
  
END CHAPTER 21 


	22. PROMISES AND SECRETS

CHAPTER 22 - PROMISES AND SECRETS  
  
Clearing his throat, Spike asked, "So, did you bring that extra blood?"  
  
"Yeah, it's in the kitchen," Clem said, "I'll get it."  
  
"No, that's alright, I'll get it," Spike said, standing up.  
  
After the door closed to the kitchen, Clem turned to Buffy.  
  
"I like your necklace, Buffy," Clem said.  
  
She smiled, looking down at the lovebird necklace, "Thanks, Spike bought it for me, at The Rittenhouse last night. He's just full of surprises," she said shaking her head.  
  
Clem nodded.  
  
"Spike's good people. Well, a good vampire, in any case."  
  
"I know," she answered him, "took me a while to figure it out, but I think I have."  
  
"I'm happy for you. For both of you. I've been rooting for you guys to get together finally!"  
  
"Thanks, Clem," Buffy said.  
  
"You know, if...if anything happens to me, you'll, would you...?" Buffy started  
  
"What Buffy? Would I what?" Clem asked.  
  
"Look after him, make sure he doesn't, I don't know...do anything rash, anything crazy. I would want him to move on..."  
  
"Oh Buffy! Don't talk like that! Everything's going to be all okey-dokey! You'll see," Clem said cheerfully.  
  
"I hope so," Buffy said, "still, if and I'm just saying if...if anything happens, I want you to tell him that I told you, to tell him that I love him, that I always will, but that I don't want him to hurt himself, to live in pain. Tell him that I want him to..."  
  
She stopped. She couldn't use the words, 'move on,' she'd used those very words last year and he had been so bitter. Of course, last year had been another story.  
  
"I want you to tell him that he will love again, that I know he's loved me better than anyone ever has, but that he has too much love inside him to not love someone, a lucky someone, again. Please? Promise me that you will!" she said, gripping his hands.  
  
"Of course I will Buffy," Clem said, squeezing her hands back. He sniffled.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to make you sad, Clem," she said, giving him a hug.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I don't think anything bad will happen, but this stuff...I think maybe you should tell   
Spike this yourself," Clem said.  
  
"I...I probably will, but I just want you to reinforce it, if..."  
  
"Of course I will Buffy," he said, hugging her again.  
Spike walked back into the living room, carrying a few pouches of blood, "What's this then?" he said in mock indignation, "I leave for a couple of minutes and come back to find my girl and my best friend hugging!"   
  
"Don't worry, Spike, just girl-talk," Clem said, trying to be cheerful.  
  
"And what do you have to say for yourself?" Spike asked Buffy.  
  
"Oh, Spike! I meant to tell you: Clem and I are in love, we're going to get married! You're invited! Hope you have a nice tuxedo!" Buffy said, teasing Spike.  
  
"I knew it!" Spike said, stalking toward her.  
  
She giggled as he leaped on her, pinning her against the couch and kissed her on the mouth.  
  
Clem rolled his eyes and giggled.  
  
"Guess this means the wedding's off, Buffy," Clem said, playing along.  
  
"Umhmmmm," Buffy said, trying to get out of Spike's grasp, but not too hard.  
  
Spike stopped, "And let that be a lesson to you!"  
  
"Okay, Headmaster Spike!" Buffy said, then realizing how that sounded, she broke up in hysterics.  
  
Spike just smirked.  
  
A couple of minutes later, clearing his throat, Spike asked Clem, "How's that thing I asked you to check up on?"  
  
Clem looked blank, then smiling broadly said, "Oh, that thing! It's fine, just fine."  
  
Buffy looked at both of them, "Okay, what thing are you two talking riddles about?"  
  
"Never you mind!" Spike said, grinning, "it's a secret; you'll find out soon enough!"  
  
"Clem!" Buffy implored.  
  
"Sorry, Buff, I've been sworn to silence," Clem said, laughing.  
  
"Well, guess we should be going then," Spike said, getting up, after putting the phone and laptop back into his backpack.  
  
Buffy got up, too.   
  
"Clem, it's been a delightful afternoon; brunch was great and so was the company," Buffy said.  
  
"Anytime, girl, anytime," Clem said.  
  
"Bye mate, thanks for everything. As always, you come through," Spike said.  
  
"Just doing my job; looking after you. And Buffy, of course," Clem said.  
  
Buffy looked back and nodded almost imperceptibly toward Clem. He nodded back. Then Spike did the same thing. They were so much alike, Clem thought.  
  
He watched them walk over to the trail behind his cabin and disappear into the woods.  
  
He sighed.  
  
He hoped that everything would turn out okay for them. They deserved it.  
  
He turned to go back into the cabin, "Now, let's have some of those barbecue chicken wings!"  
  
END OF CHAPTER 22 


	23. HOT SPRINGS

CHAPTER 23 - HOT SPRINGS  
  
"Where are we going?" Buffy asked Spike as they had taken a new trail.  
  
"You'll see, be there in just a bit, pet," Spike said.  
  
Buffy still was amazed everytime she looked at Spike, here with her, walking in the daylight; albeit, a very densely covered daylight.  
  
Still...there, walking in the daylight, having a house of his own just made him seem more like a man than she ever could have imagined him seeming like to her. A normal man. And wasn't that what he had always been, at least a part of him, anyway?  
  
What had he said to her? That she always, "Liked a little monster in her man"? She smiled, yeah, guess she did, but she also liked to see the man that he was, that he had been meant to be, if only...  
  
"We're here," Spike said, interrupting her thoughts.  
  
"Where?"   
  
"Down there," he said, "it's a cave.  
  
"Is this where you used to stay?" she asked him.  
  
"Yep, this is it. Come on, something I want to show you," he said, reaching for her hand as they started to climb down through the brush. Once they got there, he stopped, removed some brush and to moved a heavy boulder from the front of the cave entrance.  
  
Spike got a flashlight out of his pocket, "Might need this, it's a bit dark, at first," he said.  
  
Spike entered first, then helped Buffy over the ledge into the cave.  
  
"Afraid we'll have to crawl for about 50 feet, then we can walk the rest of the way."  
  
"Okay," Buffy said, getting down on her knees.  
  
The crawl wasn't too difficult. No ups or downs, just pretty straightforward, although pretty narrow.  
  
Finally they came to where the tunnel-like space they had crawled through opened up into a larger room.  
  
Buffy stood up. It almost looked like his old crypt had, except not lived in and not cozy. Still, it reminded her of Spike's type of crypt decor, in the barest sense of the word.  
  
Spike looked around, trying to remember the last time he'd been here. It had been on his way back from Africa. He just couldn't handle being at the house, so he'd mostly spent his days in here; sitting, staring, trying to find his way back to some sort of reality in his mind that wasn't plagued by visions, of images, of guilt and remorse.  
  
He sighed.  
  
"What's the matter, Spike?" Buffy asked, seeing that this place was having some sort of effect on him.  
  
"It's nothing luv, only..."  
  
"Only what, Spike?"  
  
"Just...just, I spent some time here; before coming back to Sunnydale, after..."  
  
"After you got your soul?" she asked.  
  
He nodded.  
  
She took his hand and squeezed it, then turned to face him.  
  
"Thank you, Spike," she said.   
  
"For what, Buffy?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face.  
  
"For getting your soul. For me. Fighting for it, in order to become a better man. I never told you before...how much I...how, that....it," she couldn't finish what she was trying to say, that it was the most amazing thing anyone had ever done.  
  
"You don't have to do this Buffy, it's alright. It needed to be done, so I did it; that's all. No use in belaboring it all over again luv," he said, pulling her in close. "We're here, together for now, that's what counts, right?"  
  
She nodded, afraid to speak.  
  
Spike pulled away, "Wait right here, I'll be right back," he said, and hurried down a passageway off to the left of the room.  
  
She stood there in the dark, except for the flashlight and wondered what he was up to.   
  
She heard his footsteps as he came back into view of her flashlight.  
  
"What's up?" she asked.  
  
"Wanted to make sure my surprise was ready," he said, coming up to her and taking her hand.  
  
"What is it, Spike?"  
  
He laughed, "Still don't trust me one hundred percent, huh, Slayer?"  
  
She turned to look at him, "I trust you, Spike, I just don't particularly like surprises," she said, trying to cover up the doubts she still had from time to time.  
  
"I understand, really I do. If I were you, I'd never trust me completely either, but I'm asking you to right now. Now, close your eyes, take my hand, and let me show you what I really brought you here for," Spike ordered.  
  
She looked at him seriously one more time, then shrugged, closed her eyes, and squeezed his hand, "Okay, Spike, you win, surprise away!"  
  
She felt herself being led along a fairly long passageway; at least 150 yards or so. As she walked, she could hear water, and the temperature around her seemed to be getting warmer, until it seemed to be downright balmy by the time they stopped.  
  
"Open your eyes," Spike told her.  
  
She did. Buffy stood inside of a much smaller room than the one they'd been in before. It was light, too, even without a flashlight. The light came from four flute holes, high above them. The holes were almost in a square pattern, about 15 feet from each other.   
  
And in the middle of the points of light was the thing that Spike had brought her to see, and the thing causing the temperature in the room to be about 90 degrees; a natural hot spring, about 15 feet round. And around one side of the hot spring was sand, two beach chairs/loungers, and a small table with an umbrella, complete with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.  
  
"What the...?"  
  
Spike smiled, "Like it?" he asked her.  
  
She nodded, dumbfounded.  
  
"Spike!" Buffy said, "this is amazing! I couldn't have imagined in my wildest dreams just what you wanted to show me. Especially here; a natural spring, a Hot Springs at that, in a cave, it's..."  
  
"Quite unusual," he finished for her, smiling as he enjoyed her pleasure at seeing it finally. "And the sand, the rest of it...?"  
  
"Clem did it for me," Spike answered, "figured I couldn't give you a true day at the beach, but this would be the next best thing."  
  
She walked over and bent over the pool, tentatively sticking her hand in, "It's wonderful," she said.  
  
He came over to her as she stood up, "Would you like to try it out?" he asked.  
  
"I'd love to, but I don't think I can," she said.  
  
"Why not?" he asked, a look of concern crossing his face.  
  
"Don't have anything to dry off with," she said, rather sheepishly.  
  
"Yeah, you do," Spike said, smiling and taking off the backpack, he pulled out some big fluffy towels he'd gotten from the house.  
  
"You think of everything, Mr. William Worthington," she said, in a falsetto southern accent.  
  
Spike grinned, "Didn't think I'd let you go to the 'beach' without a towel, now did you?"  
  
"Well, no use wasting a perfectly good Hot Springs, is there?" Buffy said, starting to take off her boots.  
  
"No use," Spike said, and started doing the same.  
  
A couple of minutes later she stood at the pools edge, then crouched down, "How deep is it?" she asked.  
  
"About 4 feet, if I remember right," Spike said, coming over to her side, breathing her in her scent.  
  
"Give me your hand, as you ease yourself in, Buffy," Spike said.  
  
"Wait," she said, and took off the necklace, placing it on top of her blouse.  
  
"Okay," she agreed, holding his hands above her head, as she slid, legs first into the steaming water.  
  
"Oh my God, this feels so wonderful!" she said, once she was all the way in.  
  
Spike sat down on the edge, then pushed off the sides with his hand and joined her in the water.  
  
Buffy closed her eyes and let herself fall back into the water, getting her hair wet, too. She closed her eyes and floated that way for a couple of minutes, her arms above her head, holding loosely onto the sides.  
  
Spike looked at her; naked breasts, tiny waist, light brown v-shaped curls just breaking through the water above them for a peek-a-boo every once in a while, settling back down in ringlets under the water.  
  
She's so lovely, he thought. If I could die now, from the sight of her, I'll not need any more heaven than this.  
  
He decided to join her and lay back to float, also. He wasn't very good at floating and he kept having to arch his back every couple of seconds, as his legs started going down.  
  
Buffy opened her eyes and lifted her head up. She giggled at the sight of him struggling.  
  
"Don't vampires float?" she asked him.  
  
"Well, I don't know if THEY float, only know this one doesn't so well," he said rather indignantly.  
  
Buffy put her feet back down and stood by him, "You can do it, Spike, you're just not doing it right," she said, and with that she put one hand underneath his back and one underneath his bottom.   
  
"Straighten out your legs," she commanded, "now push your shoulders down a bit!"  
  
Spike coughed, as his head went under, "Bloody hell!"  
  
"Don't be such a baby!" she scolded him. "You want to learn or what?"  
  
"I don't care if I do or I don't. Didn't have much use for it when I was human, haven't much needed it for the other 120 years plus since I've been a vampire, either," he snarked.  
  
"Baby!" she giggled.  
  
"Am not!"   
  
"Are so!"  
  
He started to get up.  
  
"Not so fast, Mr. either you learn to float, or I'm going to let you sink!" Buffy said.  
  
"Sink or swim, then is it, Slayer," Spike asked, eyeing her breasts as they were only about 6 inches away from his face.  
  
"That's right, Spike! Sink or swim, or in this case, flail or float," she laughed, then realizing where his eyes were looking she had an idea.  
  
She looked down at him. Ummmhmmm, just as she suspected.  
  
"Spike! Floating is just a knack of knowing how to adjust your body, how to hold it in the water. Once you get it, it's like..." she was going to say riding a bike, but she wasn't sure he knew how to do that either, "sex," she said, thinking that was a better example. At least one he would readily relate to.  
  
"Sex, hmmm?" he asked, all attention now on Buffy.  
  
"Spike," Buffy said, removing her hand from under his bottom and placing it above him, palm outstretched, giggling, "okay, now try to touch my hand with it," she said, as she held her hand a mere couple of inches above his hardness, which was hard, but still under the water.  
  
She still had one hand under his back, "Legs together, shoulders down, pelvis up!" she directed.  
  
Spike was going to get this, if it was the last thing he did. He could feel the warmth of her hand, even through the hot water, there, waiting to touch him.  
  
Spike concentrated, finally he felt his himself straighten out, and his manhood came up above the water and into Buffy's waiting hand.  
  
He closed his eyes at the touch, and just as he did, he sank back down again.  
  
"Bloody Hell!" he said, trying to right himself.  
  
"It's okay, Spike. You gave it the old college try!" Buffy said.  
  
Spike stood up and Buffy came over to where he was standing.  
  
All of this 'watching' him was beginning to make her want him. Again.  
  
It felt like there was so much time to make up for. And...so little time left.  
  
She put her arms around him, burrowing her face into his neck, as she pressed her body against his hardness.   
  
"Buffy," he said, pressing back into her, feeling her wet curls against him. He felt one of her legs go around him, as she continued to press against him.   
  
His mouth sought hers out, his hands pushed her wet hair away from her face, "Wait," he whispered to her.  
  
"Wait?" she asked, looking at him.  
  
"I want to see you float again," he said.  
  
"Okay," she said, smiling, as she took her leg back out from around him, and lay down on her back.  
  
He looked at her floating there; Venus didn't have anything over her. He took his hands and put them very close, but not quite touching her. First her face. She closed her eyes, as she felt the droplets of water from his hands fall softly on her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips; two hands barely caressing, not quite touching her.   
  
She opened her eyes as he did the same down her neck, her chest, over her breasts. She felt the slightest touch on her nipples as his palms gently moved over them, making them pebble. He dipped his hands into the warm water and then released them slowly over her nipples, her breasts, down her stomach, all the way to right above where her need for him lay.   
  
Again, he watched as the curls from between her legs made appearances in and out of the water. He could feel her desire as he put his hand above her. He could feel her body temperature, even through the ambient heat of the water. He felt the heat rise off her as he moved his hands above her, but beyond her stomach...his hands felt on fire and he hadn't even touched her yet.  
  
She sighed from the sensuousness of it all.  
  
One week of Human Sexuality in college, before she had to drop, in order to take care of slaying business, was enough for her to remember how it worked. Brain, touch, nerve endings, brain, pulsing down below. Setting up a sexual response in under a second.   
  
She mused to herself that they ought to have had a separate course called, "Hot Sex with a Vampire Lover." No, make that, "Hot Sex with the Vampire, Spike!" Much better, but then again, she didn't want to share his secrets with anyone else.  
  
She sighed again, feeling the strong pulse of her desire between her legs.  
  
Spike moved his hands down over her thighs, down her legs, until he was at her feet.  
  
He moved to stand at her feet, then gently spread them apart, causing her to quiver in anticipation, causing her to start to lose the natural balance. To compensate, she wrapped her legs lightly around his hips, as he put his hands on either sides of her legs and gently pulled her toward him, until her wide open legs were just barely touching him.  
  
She moaned, trying to pull herself in closer to him.  
  
He took his one hand off of her leg and put it between them. He rubbed her gently, causing her to tighten her legs around him, pull herself forward, trying to feel more than a gentle touch.  
  
"No, slowly," he told her softly, "it'll be better, trust me."  
  
His voice. God, did he know what he did to her with his voice alone? All those times last year, all those pretty, sensual, wonderful things he would say to her, all the while all she had for him was insults.  
  
He took his hand away, and gently pulled her up. Her arms went around him, as she tried to wrap her legs around him, have him inside her.  
  
"Buffy," he moaned in her ear, while gently disengaging from her legs, pulling her toward the side of the pool. He quickly reached the towels and put one near the edge of the pool, lay the backpack a few feet away with another towel over it, like a pillow.   
  
He turned back to her, turning her so that she was right in front of the towel, Buffy," Spike said, his voice deep, sexy, full of love and want for her, "I want to know where you live again, I want to taste it," and with those words, he felt her quiver as she slumped against him, moaning; putting his hands on her waist he lifted her up and onto the towel. He felt her heartbeat pounding like a native drum; for him, as he put his head between her breasts, standing between her legs.  
  
Her hands went up, to run her fingers through his curly hair, to caress his face. As she did, he turned his head up, as her mouth met his, her tongue feeling his tongue, his lips, his teeth.  
  
"Lay back," he said, as he gently guided her back onto the towel and towel covered backpack.  
  
She was trembling with desire and emotion.  
  
As he let her down, he ran his hands over her breasts, lingering there for a couple of minutes, touching them like a blind man would, trying to get a permanent picture in his mind of their shape, their feel... He leaned up out of the water, kissing her stomach, as his hands held the sides of her hips. He gently pulled her bottom closer to the edge, as he sank down to his knees in the water, her legs over his shoulders, and his head in front of the only home he had loved the best; where she lived.  
  
His thumbs gently played with the soft, wet ringlets, as he slowly moved apart the folds of her skin, like parting a flower, to see that her bud was red, ripe; quivering in almost unbearable expectation of that first touch of his mouth.  
  
He closed his eyes as he inhaled her perfume...  
  
Buffy was lost and found all in the same moment, as his warm mouth made its contact with her c**t. Hands in his hair she pulled him closer, closer; his tongue working its magic as he brought her nearer and nearer to the edge of release.  
  
She opened her eyes and looked down at him, face buried in her, heavenly expression. Blue eyes open, she sees the love he has, the passion, and mouths, "I love you," to him.   
  
In the past, she'd always felt this was more animalistic than other parts of sex, even the almost violent sex they'd had; something primal and scary. It was about control, relinquishing the loss of herself; her to him. The ultimate, most intimate kiss of desire, of love.  
  
There had been nothing more than he wanted than to see her, feel her coming right in his mouth, to remind her that her body would always betray her mind, as far as he was concerned. For that reason alone, she had for the most part, denied him this pleasure, and herself, too.   
  
For the same reason, she enjoyed taking him in her mouth. It was about the power, her power to bring him to the brink of insanity of desire for her, frustration that she wouldn't let him do the same.  
  
And the sex? That could be as impersonal as she wanted to let it be. Didn't have to relinquish all control, had control; on top most the time. Tie him up, use him, abuse him, toss him away when he'd gotten too close.  
  
But this was now. This was different; body, mind, heart - all his for the taking, all hers in the giving.  
  
Buried in her warm folds, her c**t quivering against his tongue, he felt her wetness, her juices flowing from her as he licked her the way he knows she loved, that will give her the most pleasure. Teasingly slow, then faster, harder; repeat, until she was painfully tugging at his hair, moaning his name, begging him without words to bring her over the edge.   
  
"Buffy," he murmured her name right into her, between licks, "love you, the taste of you, sweet as honey, drink you like a fine wine."  
  
Always like this, the poet, William, coming out when Spike's heart was overwhelmed by emotion.  
  
"Spike!" she screamed, as his voice does it, along with his tongue; making her convulse in a shuddering, full-body orgasm.  
  
Panting, she laid back, legs quivering against the sides of his shoulders.   
  
Spike laid his head on her stomach, hearing her heart thudding even from there.  
  
She lay there, playing with his hair, when he raised himself up and put his arms around her back, lifting her up into a sitting position, once again.  
  
"Com'ere," he murmured, his voice low and trembling, as he pulled her into the water, with him.  
  
"Spike," she said, her mouth finding his, this time, both her legs wrapping around him, impaling herself on his shaft, all the way, no turning back, no hesitation, only him, her; only love.  
  
"Buffy, luv, oh God!" he murmured, pushing her against the side, thrusting into her hot flesh again and again.   
  
Nothing ever so right, ever so good, incredible, mind numbing, body pleasuring goodness, so hard, so right, so wonderful; him, her - together, as it was meant to be; should've been...  
  
She felt him in her, filling her in a way that she's never felt filled before, completed, the other half of the whole, "Spike, love you, love you, lo..." she gasped, as her body shuddered, once again brought to sweet release.   
  
"Buffy! Love you! Always!" Spike whispered into her neck, her ear, enveloped in her radiant, scorching heat, until he came too, like a bolt of lightening.   
  
She was limp against him; spent.  
  
He picked her up; her arms went around her neck, like when he had carried her back from his tomb the other night. Holding her in his arms, he sat down on a big rock ledge at the side of the pool, murmuring into her hair.  
  
Buffy was so relaxed, she couldn't even stand up; she felt like her bones had turned to jelly. She lay in Spike's arms, head against his chest, enveloped by the warm water and his touch, and closed her eyes. Just for a minute, she told herself.  
A while later Buffy woke up to find herself on one of the chaise loungers covered with a towel. She heard Spike dialing the phone-modem connection, heard him clicking the keypad that would show him the different pictures from the house, then heard him hand up.  
  
He looked over at her after he had put the phone and laptop back in his backpack, "You're awake," he said.  
  
"Yeah, didn't even know I'd fallen asleep," she said, reaching for a glass of lemonade.  
  
"Thought I'd better get you out of that hot water, or you probably would have slept like Rip Van Winkle," Spike said with a smile.  
  
"This is really nice, Spike," she said, taking his hand. "Thank you."  
  
"Wanted to give you..." he couldn't say what he wanted to, so he just said, "a really nice, relaxing time away from Sunnydale."  
  
"You did. It is. Sunnydale? What's that?" she asked, joking with him.  
  
"A place, bad mostly, but some really good, and SAFE people live there, too," he said, letting her know all was alright on the home front.  
  
"I know. You are, too," she said, squeezing his hand and closing her eyes.  
  
About half an hour later, Spike stood in front of her, "Buffy?"  
  
"Huh," she said, sleepily opening her eyes.  
  
"We should probably get going, it's almost dusk and if you don't want to walk home all the way in the dark..."  
  
"Okay, but it doesn't really matter, pretty used to the dark..." Buffy said.  
  
"Yeah, but it's different here, really gets dark in the woods. Besides, still want to enjoy the scenery, right?"  
  
"Okay," Buffy said, with a pout on her lips. It had been lovely here and she didn't want to particularly leave a luscious 90-degree temperature, Hot Springs and her day at the beach none-too-soon.  
  
Spike handed her clothes to her, "Sit up," he said, holding the necklace.  
  
She sat up and he once again put it on for her.  
  
She looked down, glad to see it in its former place, seemed right, somehow; just like this day: Perfect. 


	24. EAU DE SPUFFY

CHAPTER 24 - EAU DE SPUFFY  
  
They exited the cave and Spike moved the boulder back in place and covered it up with brush.   
  
Then taking Buffy's hand, they started back up the rise to the trail. The sun was setting over the trees to their right, but it was barely discernible in the dense woods.  
  
Spike stopped suddenly and pulled Buffy off the trail, putting a hand over her mouth, "Shhhh!" he whispered as the sounds of crackling leaves neared them.  
  
"Jimmy crack corn and I don't care, Jimmy crack corn and I don't care, Jimmy....OH MY GOD!" Clem yelled, putting his hand to his heart, as Spike and Buffy walked out of the brush smiling.  
  
"Spike, Buffy, you almost gave a poor fellow a heart attack!" Clem said, breathing heavily.  
  
"I heard your footsteps first, mate. Didn't know what you were for a moment, so we stepped off the trail," Spike said.  
  
"We're sorry, Clem," Buffy said.  
  
"That's okay," Clem said, still scared from the surprise encounter, "I was just on my way to the cave; figured you guys would have been back to the house a long time ago."  
  
"Well, yeah, kinda took more time than we supposed," Spike stammered for the right words.  
  
"I fell asleep on one of the chairs for a while. And thank you so much for setting that all up, that was so sweet of you, both of you. Loved the lemonade! It was truly one of the most memorable experiences I've had in a long time, no, make that ever!" Buffy said, taking a furtive glance sideways at Spike.  
  
"Glad to be of help. Well, I'd better get going. Bye guys!" Clem said, but not before Buffy grabbed him, giving him a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug.   
  
She released him and he started down the trail, humming his little song, again. He waved without looking back at them, smiling to himself; they smelled so much of each other, pretty soon they'd only have one combined smell. "Eau de Spuffy," he giggled to himself.  
  
As they got closer to the cabin, it began to snow lightly again, "Look!" Buffy said as they came out of the woods up to the back porch.  
  
"Looks a little worse for the wear," Spike said, "Snowman Spike seems to have lost his teeth."   
  
Buffy bent over, picking up the burnt wood chip teeth and placed them back in his head.  
  
Spike just looked at her questioningly.  
  
"What?" Buffy asked, "Did you really think I wanted my Snowman Spike to be totally toothless?" she asked, smiling sweetly. "Guess I just want a little monster in my snowmen, too!"   
  
And with that, she turned on her heel and headed up the porch steps, leaving Spike standing in the yard, mouth agape, shaking his head at the wonder of her, of it all. 


	25. WILL

CHAPTER 25 - WILL  
  
Spike followed Buffy into the house. She'd already disappeared into her bedroom, so he decided to start a fire.  
  
"Gonna take a shower, that alright?" Buffy said from the bedroom.  
  
"Anything you want, pet," Spike replied, "I'm going outside to get some more wood, make sure the water heater's still on,"  
  
"Well, if it's not, I'm sure you'll know from my screaming!" she yelled back, closing the bathroom door.  
  
Spike rose and went over to the backpack, grabbed it, then went outside. He sat down on the porch steps and dialed up the connection to the Summer's residence. Seeing that everything was alright on the home-front, he replaced the laptop in the backpack, opened the door to the porch and house and placed the backpack on the table.   
  
Back outside, he went over to the woodpile, on the side of the house and took the phone out of his pocket and dialed the number he'd committed to memory over the years.  
  
"Hello," said the older voice, "McKennitt residence."  
  
"Lawrence? That you?"  
  
"Who's this?"  
  
"William. Worthington," said Spike.  
  
"William? William! How are you? Haven't spoken to you in ages!"  
  
"I know. I'm sorry about that. How's the family? Wife? Kids?" Spike asked.  
  
"They're mostly fine. Wife was in the hospital for surgery a few weeks ago, but nothing too serious and she's fine now. Jean is still practicing law in Boston, though she tries to visit us a couple of times a year. Lawrence III, he's practicing in Hartford. Don't hear from him much. Grandkids, all 5 are doing fine," Lawrence recited.  
  
"You give them my best," Spike said.  
  
"That I will, that I will," Lawrence replied.  
  
"Now, to what do I owe this honor, Mr. Worthington?" Lawrence asked as he slipped into the more formal tone and dialogue, letting Spike know it was time to state his true reason for calling.   
  
"I'm up in Julian," Spike said.  
  
"I know."  
  
"You know?"  
  
"Yes, I spoke to Edna; my mother yesterday, she said you and a young lady were there."  
  
They paused.  
  
"Does this have something to do with why you're calling?" Lawrence asked, perceptively.  
  
"Manner of speaking. I'd...I'd like to know how I would go about leaving this house and property...willing it to someone, should something happen to me," Spike said.  
  
"That's not too difficult. Just a matter of drawing up the paperwork and naming someone," Lawrence said.  
  
Spike hesitated, "Can I name more than one person? I mean, what if we both were to die? Don't I need another person, persons?"  
  
"Again, not a problem, William, just name who you would first want the house and property and anything else that you have to go to, then list the other names down the line."  
  
"There's only two people," Spike said.  
  
"One of them the young lady that you're with?"  
  
"Yes," Spike said, "her and her sister," Spike said.  
  
"No other heirs? Distant family you want to include?" Lawrence asked, already knowing what the answer would more than likely be.  
  
"No, no one else. No family. Just them; they're family...to me," he said quietly.  
  
"I see."  
  
Spike allowed his mind, for a couple of seconds, to think of a little impossible fantasy; the what ifs. What if he and Buffy had been a normal couple, what if they were really a family...with heirs?  
  
He looked at the house wistfully, then shook his head.  
  
"What happens if everyone dies?" he asked.  
  
"Well, if nobody else is named, the property and house go into probate, which is a fancy way of saying that it would all just go to the state of California, should there be no other beneficiary."  
  
"Bugger that!"  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"What about after I name the girls, could I name an organization? Can I do that?" Spike asked.  
  
"Perfectly acceptable; done all the time," Lawrence said.  
  
"Good," Spike said, relieved.  
  
"What about the Sierra Club or something like that? Or the Kumeyaay Indians? Probably their land in the first place."  
  
"I can check on those and some others for you. Let you know if they would be willing to receive the house and property as a gift and what possible uses they might have in mind. Sure you don't want someone building a sub-division on the land," Lawrence chuckled.  
  
"Hell no!"  
  
"Fine, I'll draw up the paperwork and mail it to you in a couple of weeks," Lawrence said.  
  
"No. It has to be sooner. Much sooner," Spike said.  
  
Lawrence was silent. In all the years he'd know William and his father, he knew not to ask too many questions of them.  
  
"Alright then, right away," Lawrence said.  
  
"I'm giving you temporary power of attorney, like we did that one time. Draw it up, sign my name, then I want you to send it to the address I'm going to give you. I want it in her hands right away," Spike said.  
  
"You know I don't like to do things this way," Lawrence said, "just for the record."  
  
"I know," Spike answered, "just for the record, but I need you to do this."  
  
"Alright. If you'll give me the address..."  
"Be safe, William," Lawrence said, as he hung up, feeling somewhat unhinged by the conversation.  
  
"You, too, Lawrence. Give my best to the family."  
  
"I will. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."  
  
"Thank you. I know you will, you always have," Spike said. "Goodbye, Lawrence."  
  
"Goodbye, William," Lawrence said.  
"Lawrence was still sitting at his desk, staring off into space, phone in hand when his wife came into his home office.  
  
"Who was that, dear?" she asked.  
  
"Shirley, I just had the strangest call..." 


	26. NIGHTMARES OF DUST

CHAPTER 26 - NIGHTMARES OF DUST  
  
Spike walked back into the house, carrying the heavy wood, but with a big weight lifted off his shoulders.  
  
He heard the water turn off in the bathroom as he was putting the wood down. After starting the fire he went to the kitchen and looked in the refrigerator to see what Edna had sent.   
  
"Buffy," he said, knocking on her door.  
  
"Just getting dressed," she replied.  
  
"I know, just wondered what you wanted for dinner. Edna sent over some more of the what you had for dinner last night, some spaghetti, steaks, clam chowder, champagne..."  
  
"I don't care, just warm up whatever is easiest for you," she replied, then called to him through the door, "wait, Spike, I can do that when I'm done," Buffy said.  
  
"No, that's alright. You're still my guest; I can warm up something. I'm not that daft," he said.  
  
"Okay," she said laughing at the term.   
  
He smiled at her through the door. He'd never known any place to have such warmth as he felt about his 'home,' right now. He silently thanked Lawrence Sr., for having talked him into building this in the first place.   
  
Spike was standing at the stove, his back to her, stirring something as Buffy walked into the kitchen. She stopped at the doorway to take in the scene: domestic Spike. Nah, make that William. She smiled to herself.  
  
She walked over to where he was and put her arms around him from behind.  
  
"Hi," she said, as she nuzzled his back, "smells good."  
  
"You do, too," he said, as he put down he spoon and rubbed his hands along her arms, as he closed his eyes for a second, inhaling a freshly scrubbed Buffy.  
  
He wanted to turn around, look into her eyes, take her in his arms, but he knew if he did that, she'd never get a chance to eat until much later; they'd be lost in each other again.  
  
"Can I do anything to help?" she asked, luckily killing off the temptation at the right moment.  
  
"Well, if you want to eat in here, then you can set the table. Or, if you want to eat in the living room in front of the fireplace, there's a sort of low coffee table like thing over against the same wall that has the desk. It's not too heavy; you could move it in front of the couch and you could have sort of a buffet-style dinner," Spike said.  
  
"I like that idea. I'll go move it. Oh, and Spike?"  
  
"Huh?" he said turning around as she started to walk out of the room.  
  
"Heavy?"  
  
He just looked at her.  
  
"The table. Heavy? I've thrown..." she started to say 'you,' but self-corrected in time, "big demons across the room before, think I can handle a little old table, " she said, laughing.  
  
"I know," Spike said, looking a bit hurt, having caught the pause, "I guess I just forgot about the Slayer part of you and just was thinking about the woman part of you. My mistake," he said, turning back to the stove.  
  
Ouch! Great, Buffy, open mouth, insert foot.  
  
She walked back into the kitchen, and once again put her arms around Spike, "I'm so sorry, that came out so wrong, so snotty. I'm sorry Spike, you have no idea how much this weekend has meant to me. Being here, being able to be just a 'woman,' for a change. I'm sorry I sounded like such a bitch!"  
  
Spike turned around, "Never," he said, gently kissing her forehead.  
  
She raised her head, looking him in the eyes. Had anyone ever looked at her with such unfaltering love before?   
  
"I'm sorry," she said, kissing him.  
  
"Forgiven," he said, kissing her back, drawing her closer.  
  
"We'd better stop this," she said.  
  
"Umhmmm, we'd better is right, or you won't be eating anytime soon," Spike said, grinding into her soft, receptive body.  
  
"No, but you would," she said, giggling.  
  
He looked at her with surprise. And lust.   
  
"Naughty girl!" he said, grinning.  
  
She stepped back from his embrace, "I'd better go see about that table," she said.  
  
He nodded at her, licking his lips, "You'd better at that."  
Buffy spotted the coffee table and went to move it to in front of the couch. Just before she did, her eye wandered to the desk. She walked over to it and saw a set of colored artist's drawing pencils, some charcoal drawing pencils, a calligraphy pen, ink, and a drawing book. Looking guiltily back at the kitchen door, she slowly opened the book.  
  
The first picture she saw was of Dru, sitting in what appeared to be a very high backed shell-back shaped chair of red velvet. Her gown was drawn with exquisite detail, red, with gold trim, lace cuffs and neck. She looked very beautiful, Buffy thought. Crazy, but beautiful. It was dated 1910 and signed Spike.  
  
The next few were also of Dru and Darla. There was one of Angel, Darla, and Dru. She looked at Angel, smirking for the picture. Looking at him, she just felt...nothing anymore. Well, maybe friendship, but nothing else, no regrets, no remorse, no pangs of lost love. Nothing.   
  
Satisfied by her own reaction, she continued to turn the pages. She stopped a few pages later when she came to a picture of herself. It was from about the time Spike and her first met. She looked to be about 16, her face still full; a bit of baby fat. Short skirts funky tops.   
  
She continued turning the pages. Some of the pictures she recognized as those she'd torn down a couple of years ago, when she discovered Spike keeping a 'Buffy' shrine.  
They had been replaced in the book, although not attached any longer. Images he'd drawn of her over the years, whether from looking at her from her bedroom window (big peeping Tom that he was, she thought, smiling) or more likely, from memory.  
Buffy through the years.  
  
Suddenly she stopped, her heartbeat quickened as she saw an image of herself in pain, on the bathroom floor, robe half off her shoulder and the words NO! SPIKE! STOP! in huge letters above her pained fearful expression.   
  
She turned the page. Page after page the same image, the same words; except there were what looked like grains or specks more on each page, until the last page showed the specks all over the page, all over her. The next pages explained why, as these ones showed her with a stake in her hand and a horror-sticken Spike. His face showed the horror of the act he had almost committed. Then the next page showed the same thing, except this time with the stake going into him, him fading just a bit. On and on it went as she turned the pages - more stake, less Spike, more horror...Page after page, until there was nothing left only specks. Only her horror and...dust.   
  
The dates on these pages were right after Spike had left town last summer, before he'd gotten his soul.  
  
Tears ran down Buffy's face as she looked at the heartbreaking images; pictures of both their nightmares. She didn't want to see anymore, but she made herself turn the page. There, the last two pictures were of Spike, done in charcoal and looking very much like a tortured Dali composition; face distorted, eyes uneven, mouth opened in a grotesque way, a hideous caricature of the monster he felt he'd become. She looked at the date; it was the end of the summer. Post soul.  
  
She was frozen in place, tears streaming, until she heard him call from the kitchen.  
  
Hurriedly, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve, closed the book, and quietly moved the coffee table.  
  
She went into the kitchen, "Spike, sorry, didn't hear you," she said, sniffling a bit.  
  
"I just thought you were coming back for the silverware and all that. Hey, what's wrong?" he asked her suddenly seeing her eyes red and her sniffling.  
  
"Nothing," she answered quickly, putting on a false, cheery smile, "just got too close to the fire, got some smoke in my eyes, up my nose," Buffy said.  
  
He just looked at her in a funny way, "Here's the table settings and glasses," he said, pointing at the kitchen table.  
  
"Okay," she said, gathering them up.  
  
She was almost out the door when she stopped, "I love you, Spike," she said, not trusting herself to turn around and look at him.  
  
He walked over to her and put his arms around her from behind, "I love you, too Buffy. You know I do, always will," Spike said.  
  
She just nodded, trying to stifle a sniffle.   
  
"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked her, hugging her tightly, "Did I do something to make you upset? I know that you are, I can feel it, Buffy."  
  
"I'll be alright, really I will. Just had a momentary thing, okay? Let me go set this table, or I'm never going to get to eat," Buffy said.  
  
"Okay, right," Spike replied, letting her go at the mention of her being hungry.  
  
Buffy walked back into the living room, determined to put those images out of her mind for the rest of the evening. No use ruining the time they had left here with pain from the past. They'd moved past it, had been able to forge something new, especially this weekend, which had been beyond her wildest imaginings.   
  
Most of all, she didn't want to make Spike relive those days after what had happened between them. 


	27. DINNER

CHAPTER 27 - DINNER  
She had just finished setting the coffee table when Spike came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with various dishes of leftovers from Edna's restaurant.  
  
"Ummm, smells good," Buffy said, coming over to help him. They laid out the different bowls and plates full of food; spaghetti in red wine sauce, shrimp and scallop fettuccini, clam chowder, chicken almondine, red snapper with asparagus and artichoke hearts, and a big rare prime rib.  
  
Spike put another log on the fire. He then pulled a couple of the leather couch cushions onto the floor, covering them with a throw that had been on one of the chairs, "There, comfy and not too cold on the bum," Spike said, pulling the coffee table in closer to the seats.  
  
"God! There's enough food here for an army!" Buffy said.  
  
"Well, you're an army of one, so dig in, my girl," Spike said, grinning at Buffy.  
  
"Funny," Buffy said, but started dishing out herself a helping of spaghetti, then she placed the steak on Spike's plate, "Here you take this," she said.  
  
"Sure you don't want to try it?" Spike asked.  
  
"No, a little too rare for my tastes, but it really does look good," she said, nodding.  
  
Spike uncorked the one of the bottles of champagne that Edna had sent and poured them each a glass, then raised his glass, "Let's toast," Spike said.  
  
"What should we toast to?" Buffy asked.  
  
So many things he wanted to say, but then again, they'd all been said, mostly. Other things would have to wait.   
  
Buffy looked at him, expectantly and looking back at her, he knew.  
  
He raised his glass, motioning for her to do the same.  
  
"Hope," Spike said, never taking his eyes off her.  
  
She nodded, liking that very much, "Hope," Buffy replied, clinking glasses with him.  
"I think I ate too much," Buffy said, pushing the plate and the remains of the red snapper away from herself.  
  
"I didn't know that was possible," Spike joked.  
  
"Funny, soon I'll be Bimbo the Vampire Slayer," she said.  
  
"Never! Although it might be good, if you were me," Spike said, laughing.  
  
"I think it's fair to say that you get a permanent pass in that department," Buffy said, grinning at her most favored vampire.  
  
"Yeah, guess you're right about that, pet."  
  
"Do you want some desert?" Spike asked her.  
  
"A world of NO!" Buffy said. "Maybe you could talk me into it later, though," she suggested.  
  
"I can think of lots of other sweet things that I'd like to talk you into later on," Spike said in a low voice, making her legs and thighs immediately get all jelly-like, as her sex twitched just at the thought of him touching her again.   
  
She blushed. He noticed.  
  
"You're just wicked, you know?" Buffy said to him.  
  
Spike shrugged, grinning, "Vampire, here," he said, motioning to himself.  
  
He got up starting to clear the plates.  
  
"No you don't, you didn't let me help you in the kitchen before, so I'll get this and you get to relax," Buffy said, pushing him back onto the cushion.  
  
He grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap, "You sure that's what you want to do right now?" he asked, as his mouth nuzzled her neck.   
  
"Don't wanna relax; want you," Spike murmured, turning his face to kiss her; his tongue lightly exploring her mouth in the way he knew she responded to best.  
  
Buffy groaned, as she kissed him back, wriggling on his lap as she felt his excitement growing underneath her.  
  
"No. Oh, oh, Spike, God," she mumbled, trying to hang onto her quickly fading resolve, "taste so good...oooh...ahhh...no," Buffy said.  
  
She kissed him once more, pushing him onto his back and getting astride him, "Spike, I want you, now, but I'm going to get up anyway and get this cleaned up," she said, as she rubbed her body to his, melting with him.  
  
"Don't, don't go," Spike pleaded, looking at her with soulful blue eyes.  
  
"Let me do this, then I'm all yours the rest of the night," she said between kisses and rising passions, "promise, all yours," Buffy said, forcing herself to get up.  
  
"You drive a hard bargain," Spike said, in a voice dripping with sensuality.  
  
Buffy put the dishes and other dinner things on the tray, willing her legs to stop feeling like jelly, her breath to slow.  
  
She looked down at him lying back against the couch; sexy, languid, half-closed eyes watching her body move, a slight smirk to his mouth.  
  
"Spike, you look like the cat that just ate the canary," Buffy said, laughing.  
  
"Almost, bird, almost," he said, arching one eyebrow, grinning like the Cheshire cat.  
  
She blushed, again as her body reacted to the suggestive words.  
  
"You're incorrigible, Mr. Worthington," she said, laughing, picking up the tray, "now be a good boy and clean up in here," she commanded, as she walked toward the kitchen, grinning.  
  
She'd never known a man who could ooze sensuality and sexuality like Spike could. It could either be like he was right now - slow and languid, or hard and powerful, dangerous.   
  
Wicked energy, indeed!  
  
She had to admit it; she'd always been attracted to him, from the first time she saw him, throughout the years. Yeah, she'd wanted to 'dance,' alright, but they'd nearly destroyed themselves with the 'dance,' last year. She sighed, glad that was behind them, finally, hopefully.  
  
Starting the water in the sink to do the dishes she thought of everything, every idea that had been upended in her neat and tidy way of thinking about things.  
  
It was William who built this house, William who helped Edna, intervened and saved both Lawrence and Clem. William had always been inside of Spike, she now realized. More than just the remnants and memories of the man inside the demon. And now that he had his soul back, was it reversed? Instead of a bit of man inside the monster, it was a bit of the monster inside the man? She realized she really didn't care anymore. She'd used his lack of a soul, as the reason she could never love him. But it wasn't his lack of a soul. He'd loved her, fought for her, been there for her and Dawn...she just hadn't wanted to see that he was still a man, it flew in the face of all she'd been taught.   
  
William? Spike? It didn't matter they both loved her and she loved them both, too. She couldn't imagine one without the other.   
  
Spike got up and moved the bottle and glasses off the table and onto the floor. He picked up the table and carried it back to it's spot against the wall. As he put it down, something on the desk caught his eye and he was about to go over to it, when he remembered he'd better check in with the gang back at Hellmouth Central. He felt guilty, he'd told Buffy he would do so every hour on the hour, yet he knew he hadn't exactly been keeping to the schedule and she'd seemed to forget, as well.   
  
As the computer was warming up, he walked quietly to the kitchen door and opened it a couple of inches. Buffy's back was to him, as she washed the dishes. He didn't know why, but the sight of her, in his kitchen, doing dishes gave him such a warm feeling. He knew she'd hate being thought of as, 'domestic,' but it was more than that. It was, "Right stirring," is what it was!  
  
He walked quietly up behind her, grabbing her suddenly in a tight hug.  
  
She jumped a little, then relaxed, feeling Spike's lips near her ear, "Do you know how sexy you look to me right now?"  
  
"Doing dishes?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah," he answered.  
  
"Men! You're all sick! Want a woman to cook and clean..." she said.  
  
"Hey, you didn't cook, if you remember, missy!" Spike said, "besides, maybe it's just that your little hiney is facing me, and you know I can't resist that..." he said, kissing her ear and pulling her backside towards him, as he pushed his groin forward.  
  
He gave her one more, hard thrust against the counter, making her groan, "I just came to tell you that I'm going to dial-up Sunnydale, if you need to check your email or IM Willow or anyone," Spike said.  
  
"Be right there," Buffy said, smiling, pushing him reluctantly away so she could finish.  
  
She heard him laughing as he went out the door. He knew the effect he was having on her this weekend, "Well, it's mutual!" she smiled smugly.  
When she came out to the living room, Spike was sitting on the couch with the laptop, checking out the different scenes from the cameras at home.  
  
She sat down next to him and he clicked for her, they laughed at seeing Andrew, doing the same thing she had just been doing - washing dishes, except he was wearing an apron.   
  
"Your guestage, busy earning his keep," Spike said, laughing.  
  
"He's not really a bad cook at all, cleans the place pretty well, too," Buffy said.  
  
Spike nodded.  
  
"Little boy..." he said, shaking his head, "should be out playing with other little girls, or boys, in his case," Spike said, in a funny sort of manner.  
  
"What else do we have?" Buffy asked.  
  
Spike showed her Willow sitting in the living room with her computer. Xander was there also, and Anya.  
  
"Spike, let me have the computer, I want to talk to Willow," Buffy said.  
  
He handed her the computer.  
  
Slayer1: Willow?  
Wicca1: Buffy?   
Wicca1: was just was going to see if you were online  
Slayer1: here I am  
Wicca1: how's your day been?  
Slayer1: really great: walk in the woods, brunch with Clem, dinner, etc...  
Wicca1: Clem's with you guys?  
Slayer1: not exactly, but close by  
Wicca 1: sounds nice  
Slayer1: ummhmmm  
Wicca1: what's the ETC. ???  
Slayer1: never-you-mind!  
  
Slayer1: how's everything at home?  
Wicca1: been quiet, Dawn will be home tomorrow evening  
Slayer1: good, so will we  
Wicca1: when?  
  
She looked at Spike a little sadly, who was looking over as she typed, "What time do you think we'll leave here?" she asked him.  
  
"Whenever you want luv," he said, looking at her, "but if we don't have to hurry back in broad daylight, then we could leave around 6:00 or 7:00 and still be back fairly early."  
  
Buffy nodded, "Sounds like a plan," then she added, sort of wistfully, "wish we could stay..."  
  
"Know luv," Spike said, nodding, "me, too."  
  
He put his arm around her, kissing her cheek.  
  
Slayer1: Willow?  
Wicca1: yeah?  
Slayer1: be back around 8:00 or 9:00  
Wicca1: good  
Slayer1: ok, that's all from here  
Wicca1: wherever 'here' is  
Slayer1: wherever...  
Slayer1: tell everyone hi  
Wicca1: ok bye Buffy, have fun  
Slayer1: I will, thanks, luv ya  
Wicca1: bye, luv you, too  
  
Buffy handed the computer and phone to Spike and he shut them down.  
  
Buffy snuggled, up to Spike, putting her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, and with their fingers entwined, they watched the fire in the fireplace in contented silence for a while.  
  
Content.  
  
"Want to do anything, luv?" he asked her after about 45 minutes just sitting together.  
  
"I dunno. This is nice," Buffy replied, reaching up to give his cheek a kiss.  
  
"Love you," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.  
  
"Love you, too, Spike," she said. 


	28. INTO ASHES

CHAPTER 28 - INTO ASHES  
  
Another half hour passed in silence.  
  
"What you thinking about?" Spike asked Buffy.  
  
"Trying not to, well, sort of," she said, leaning forward a bit, "always have to be thinking it seems, so this is nice, just to 'be,' she said, turning to look at him.  
  
He nodded. He knew what she meant; what she always was having to deal with.  
  
He drew her back close to him, her legs curled up under her as she sat with his arm still around her.  
  
He had brought her here so she could have a break, a mini-vacation, a time of relaxation, yet he'd realized that he'd never had as much pure unadulterated joy his whole life, as he'd felt in this time they'd been together. He couldn't even put it into words, didn't even want to try for fear of the 'but,' that must inevitably come at the end of this experience. And so he didn't try, just held her close to him, while he still could, held her heart in his heart, held her hands in his, claimed a bit of her love as his own, as much as she was willing to give him, for now.  
  
"I wish..."Buffy started to say.  
  
"What luv? What do you wish?" Spike said to her softly.  
  
"I wish I had brought a camera, wish I could have taken some pictures of all this, wish I could..."she mused, "but somehow, now that I'm saying it aloud, it doesn't quite seem right to have a camera here at all. It's too modern, or something."  
  
Spike laughed, "Oh, so now I have you all spoiled from modern-day living, is it?"   
  
"No, it's just that this is private, yours, you and me here together," she said.  
  
She felt him tense up and knew he'd taken it the wrong way.  
  
"Spike, I don't mean we're a secret," she said, turning to face him, "not anymore, never again! What I meant is that this, here, I wouldn't want to share this with anybody else. This place, this weekend is only for my heart, mine and yours," she turned to sit on her legs, so she was sitting sideways on the couch, now. She put her arms around him and kissed Spike slow and tenderly.   
  
He kissed her back, then gave a small smile as he thought of something, "Buffy, got an idea, let me up, pet," he said, surprising her.  
  
He walked over to the desk before she knew what he was doing. Her heart started to pound as he stopped suddenly, his back becoming rigid, trembling ever so slight.  
  
She got up and walked over to him, grabbed his arm and turned him around, "I want you to burn them!" she said forcefully.  
  
He just looked at her, pain, shame, fear in his face.  
  
"Spike," she said, softly reaching up to touch his face, "I saw them. I'm sorry I looked; before when I was moving the table.  
  
He nodded, remembering how she'd been upset before dinner, now he knew why.  
  
"They're so awful, those pictures - of me, us, last summer. They're not only your nightmare, but they're my worst nightmares," Buffy said.  
  
Tears welled up in his eyes as the shame hit him head on, like a two by four, he started shaking.  
  
"NO! That's not what I mean," she raised her voice, shaking him by both arms, "God Spike, don't you know what I mean?" she asked, voice soft now.  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Oh Spike," she said, walking away, crumpling to the ground in an Indian position in front of the couch, her head hung over as tears streamed down her face.  
  
Shocked, Spike walked over, holding onto the drawing pad and sat down across from her and took her hands in his.  
  
She looked up, still crying at his confused face, "My nightmare isn't so much what happened in the bathroom, as it's of losing you Spike, losing you forever, of you 'fading away,' turning to dust."  
  
"Oh, Buffy," he said, not trusting himself to say anymore.  
  
"Spike," she said, pleading; taking his hands, "you've got so many lovely pictures you've drawn in here...burn these, Spike! They're not who we are, they're only nightmares. I don't want to see these nightmares anymore, don't want you to see these nightmares anymore, please, Spike. Make me something new; beautiful, draw me something I can keep...Please, baby!"   
  
He'd been rubbing the tops of her hands with his thumbs, at hearing her call him, 'baby,' he looked up at her and smiled a little, nodded.  
  
He handed her the drawing pad, "Go ahead, Buffy, take them out."  
  
Trying hard not to look at them again, she found the first one and the last one and tore them and all those in between out of the book.  
  
She handed them to him. Spike got up and pulled her up with him. They walked over to the fireplace and he put the first one into the fire. He handed the next one to her and she did the same.   
  
And so they took turns, each one of them letting go of both their nightmares, reducing them to ashes.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 28 


	29. SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

CHAPTER 29 - SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL  
  
Buffy held the last one, she tore it, giving half to Spike, and they both put their halves into the fire, watched as they burned away; their nightmares and past sins, until all that was left was them.  
  
Spike took her hand, as she turned to face him, "Now make me something beautiful!"  
  
He smiled at her bossiness, "Ok, what do you want? I was going to draw a picture from something here; this place, since you didn't have a camera," he said.  
  
"That'd be wonderful!" she said, once again, feeling a sense of well-being.  
  
Spike sat down on the floor in front of the couch, "What's your pleasure?"  
  
Buffy smiled back and sort of grinned in a lascivious way.   
  
He cocked his eyebrow at her, "Not talking that, luv," he said grinning back, "what would you like me to draw?"  
  
She shrugged, "Surprise me."  
  
"Tell you what, I'll draw something while you think about what you'd really like."  
  
A few minutes later he tore off the top sheet and handed it to her. She laughed, it was a picture of Snowman Spike.  
  
"Very funny, but it's a start. Okay, how about a picture of the woods, the trail on the way to Clem's house?"  
  
"Okay," he smiled, a playful glint in his eyes and got to work.  
  
About 10 minutes later, he handed her the pad. It was a picture of the trail and in greater detail was 'The Tree,' next to it, was a boot, and very faintly against the bark was the outline of a woman's body; hers.  
  
Buffy laughed, "I love it! I didn't even think about that when I mentioned the trail, but this is perfect. Can I have it to take home?" she asked.  
  
Spike nodded and she tore the page from the book.  
  
"Tell me, Buffy, if you'd had that camera, what would've taken a picture of at the Hot Springs?" Spike asked her.  
  
She looked at him, heart warmed, by the memories of how wonderful a place it had been.   
  
"Well, I would take a picture of you trying to float, but..." she said laughing.  
  
Spike groaned, "May need some more incentive in that department, pet," he said rolling his eyes.  
  
Buffy giggled remembering exactly what that incentive had been.  
  
"I can't decide," she said.  
  
"Close your eyes and pretend you're there at the Hot Springs," Spike instructed, "now, what do you see? What do you take a picture of?"  
  
Buffy closed her eyes, "I take a picture of the room, the light, the water in the pool. I see the table and umbrella, even the chairs and the lemonade," she said, fondly remembering her 'day at the beach.'  
  
"Okay, good. What else?" Spike asked.  
  
Buffy flushed. Spike smiled to himself, noticing; sniffing the air ever so slightly as synapses of Buffy' physical memories gave way to little detectible and delecitble molecular identifiers.  
  
"I'll tell you afterwards," she said, looking at him in a way that made him want to take her right then and there. God he loved her!  
  
She sat on the couch, behind him and watched him expertly draw in the details of her memories of that day. He was so good at drawing, she'd had no idea.   
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Um?"  
  
"Are there other drawings that you have, besides in this pad?" she asked.  
  
"No, luv, only these. Why?"  
  
"It's just that you're so good, Spike. I figured you might have had a whole stash of them somewhere."  
  
"Didn't really do it very often, luv. Mostly when I was up here."  
  
"You didn't have any of your subjects pose for you, then?"  
  
"No, all from memory," Spike said, taking a moment to look back at her, "why?"  
  
"It's just they're so rich, so full of detail, I thought you must have..."  
  
"Dru, Darla, Angel...they would have laughed. Well, maybe not Darla, she was sort of vain. Dru, who knows? Just thought it best I kept this to myself," he said, going back to the drawing.  
  
It made her sad to think of him having kept this gift to himself.  
  
"It was more William, than Spike, you know," he said, as if reading her mind, "William...well, you know...William only occassionally came out while I was here, mostly."  
  
He handed her the pad, and there in color, better than any photograph was the Hot Springs, the walls, the points of lights on the floor as they fell from above, the table, chaises, umbrella, and even her lemonade. She could almost feel the steam as it rose from the water.   
  
"Thank you," she said, putting her hand to his face.  
  
He kissed her palm and snuggled into her hand, warm against his cheek.  
  
"What else, my love?" he asked her.  
  
"I...I want a picture of us, of me sitting on the edge of the Hot Spring, after you lifted me up. And you, when you were standing in the water, hugging me; your face in my chest, but I want to see you..." she said, her voice evoking the emotions the memories now held for her.  
  
"Buffy," Spike said, setting down the pad and raising up on his knees, hugging her in a way, reminiscent of that; head to chest, "I love you so much," he said, as she pulled his head up, reaching down to kiss his full lips. Her hair fell across his face as he kissed her back, as he drank in the scent of all of her.   
  
He moved his head back to between her breasts as they both relived the moments they'd shared today. He could smell her excitement as he rubbed against her breasts, feel her nipples harden under his cheek.  
  
"God Buffy, I'm never going to get this done, if I don't stop. Wanna ravish you here, right now, luv. Wanna..."  
  
She stopped him from talking further by kissing him passionately, as they both groaned into each other, "Want you, too. William. Spike. All of who you are, love you, love you..."she said, but then stopped the kiss before it could go any further.  
  
"Draw it for me," she begged.  
  
Moaning, Spike sighed, and sat back on the floor. It was like an aphrodisiac for them, the talking about today, the memories. He smiled to himself, knowing they'd have new ones by the morning, as well.  
  
"Slave driver!" he said to her.  
  
She laughed, then quietly asked, "How do you know what you look like?"   
  
He turned around, looking at her funny.  
  
"I mean, you can't see yourself in a mirror. I never much thought about it before but everyday I see myself, get a picture, an image of what I look like. Or I can look back at old photos, or those pictures you drew of me, when I was younger and see myself then and now. How do you imagine yourself on a day to day basis, without the visual?"  
  
"I don't know, Buffy. How does a blind person envision themselves? Obviously, it's more than just a visual thing I use to have a sense of self. It's how I feel, it's tactile, odors, taste, reactions of others, all those things..."  
  
"Back in the late 70's, in New York, I had a street artist down in Hell's Kitchen draw a picture of me, sketched it. I had just gotten into dying my hair and wanted to know what it looked like. I was really sort of shocked when I first saw it. I hadn't seen myself in about 90 years, and though I knew I didn't look like the nancy-boy I used to look like, I never imagined such a radical difference. I liked it, liked the look, so decided to keep it."  
  
Buffy laughed and Spike gave her a dirty look over his shoulder.  
  
"No, no! I like it, too. Just...it wouldn't be you without your white hair. But I like it right now, too. A lot. All softer," she said, running her hands through his naturally curly, ungelled hair. It's nice when it's like this, too," she said, sweetly.  
  
"For you, I'll wear it like this. Here. Back home, I think it's better I look like the Big Bad, don't you, pet?"  
  
She leaned over to kiss his ear, "Probably. I like this though, it's a change."  
  
"Figured you'd think of as my 'crazy Spike,' hair," he said, referring to when she'd first seen him in the school basement after the summer.  
  
"Not so crazy," she said, kissing the side of his head.  
  
"You'd better stop that, Buffy, if you want this picture," he warned.  
  
"Okay, okay," Buffy said, relenting, "I'll leave you to it and go get that other bottle from the refrigerator."  
  
Spike just nodded, absorbed in his drawing.  
  
A few minutes later he smiled when he heard her swear as the cork went flying, hitting something metallic.  
  
Buffy came back from the kitchen in a few minutes carrying a fresh, cold bottle of champagne and two clean glasses.  
  
"Almost done," he said to her, "no peeking!"   
  
"I'll be good," she said, sitting down right in front of the fireplace, with Spike behind her about 6 feet.  
  
She heard him mumble under his breath, heard the edge of an eraser being rubbed against the paper.   
  
A couple of minutes later, he scooted up to her and handed her the drawing pad.  
  
She stared at herself sitting on the edge of the pool, arms around Spike, who stood hugging her in an embrace that she could almost feel. His face was turned outward, toward the 'audience,' but still between her breasts; a look of deep love in his eyes that she would have recognized anywhere as his and his alone. Her arms were around his back, her eyes half open, half closed; love and ecstacy written on her features.   
  
"It's beautiful," she said, a tear running down her cheek, "it's so real; just like I felt," she said, looking at him.   
  
"Thank you. For this, for everything Spike."  
  
Spike put his hand on her cheek and gazed into her eyes; the eyes of the woman who had made a man out of a monster.  
  
"It's all about you, Buffy, always has been," he said, and pulled her to him. 


	30. SUICIDE ANNEX

CHAPTER 30 - SUICIDE ANNEX  
"Spike," Buffy said, his name coming off her lips like some Siren's Song to his ears.   
  
Kissing, they maneuvered toward the couch, which they collapsed on together. His hand went up under her blouse, fingers enveloping a soft breast, while he rubbed his thumb against her nipple. She moaned, finding herself once again slipping into a delirium of physical sensations; a combination of love, passion, and limbs turning to jelly, as her sex throbbed between her legs.  
  
Still kissing Spike, Buffy began pulling up his shirt, only unlocking her lips from his, to pull it over his head. He did the same with hers, unclasping her bra and pulling it off her arms as they rejoined mouths, each trying to undo the other's pants, divesting themselves of the last of their clothing.  
  
"God, Buffy, you're so wet already," Spike murmured into her ear as his hand came into contact with her panties, fingers reaching down to lose themselves in her.  
  
Her breath hitched in her throat and chest as his knowing fingers once again rediscovered her inner secrets, "Spike... feels so good," she whispered, as he increased the movement, causing the muscles inside of her to start clenching around him.  
  
Her hand found him and she stroked him lightly, from his head to his base in a soft, teasing manner that she knew he liked. Stoked the soft skin, gently pulling the foreskin down over the head.  
  
Spike loved the feel of her, all of her, how she felt to him, to his skin, so warm and vibrant. Loved the way she touched him, especially when she wasn't all about hurting him, though him and his demon use to sort of like that, too. But this was better; much better than before; she touched him caring about his pleasure, too. He could feel her love; this time it wasn't just what he 'wanted' it to be; it was really there, in her touch. A touch not just about driving him crazy for a sense of one-up-manship, but a touch that gave, didn't just take.  
  
"Spike, want you in me, now!" Buffy moaned, molding herself to his body.  
  
She rolled him over onto his back this time and got on top, he took hold of her hips and guided her down ever so slowly, so that he was just barely touching her. She felt like fire drawing him in, but he resisted. Only in an inch at first, he stopped, looked at her heaving chest, her eyes glazed over with desire.  
  
"You're so beautiful," Spike said to her, allowing himself another inch, "you're a Renoir, a *Manet; belong in the Louvre," he waxed poetic, as her hips tried to move down, to take more of him inside her.  
  
"Spike..." she gasped, as he moved her down another couple of inches, "want you so much, now, please, Spike, please baby," she begged him, needing to feel him inside, as much as he needed to tell her his heart.  
  
At the sound of her calling him 'baby' for the second time that evening, he pulled her hips down, suddenly, forcefully. She gasped, her breath ragged, as he grabbed her bottom, pulling her back and forth over him as she collapsed onto him.  
  
They kissed passionately, as they moved against one another, his one hand coming up to cup her breast, the other on her behind. Her hands were behind his head, buried in his hair; his curly, non-crazy-Spike hair. She felt herself stretched, filled to her depths, as he brought her to the heights of her womanliness, her true power.  
  
Convulsively shuddering, her legs shook as she climaxed over him, her breath filled his mouth as she gasped his name into it, she felt him come, as he suddenly went ultra hard; felt his wetness inside her.  
  
He rolled them over to their sides, as he stroked her hair and face, "I missed touching you so much Buffy, all this time; I love your body, how soft it is, giving, supple, strong," Spike said, as her fingers still played in his hair, "missed loving you."  
  
"Missed you, too; your touch, the feel of you over me, under me, the way your back feels; your muscles, your smoothness, your hardness, your eyes when they look into me, your mouth when you kiss me..." she said, feeling free to be as poetic about her feelings as he always was about his.  
  
They lay there entwined around each other, each savoring the unbelievable close bond that they'd forged over the course of the last two days.   
  
They fell asleep like that for about an hour, when they awoke, Buffy looked over to see Spike snuggled down between her breasts. She smiled at how innocent he looked to her; William, all the way, except for the blonde hair, albeit, curly; there were no other visual vestiges of Spike. But then again, he'd been much more free to be William since they'd been up here in Julian, at his own place, in an environment of his making, in so many ways.   
  
She'd known 'Spike,' for a long time, it was nice getting to know 'William,' too.  
And maybe, maybe she was getting to be more like 'Elizabeth,' the woman. She smiled, 'Elizabeth,' a grown woman's name. That's what she felt like being with him, a woman.  
  
She rubbed his back, as she kissed the top of his head. Soft blue eyes made to fall into opened and looked at her, "Ummm," he murmured, kissing her breasts softly, "fell asleep, did we?"  
  
"Umhmm," she replied.  
  
"I should put some more wood on the fire, before it goes out," Spike said, looking ruefully over at the dwindling fire."  
  
"Okay," Buffy said, kissing him first.  
  
Reluctantly they sat up. Spike got up, putting on his pants, and went over to the fireplace.   
  
"Be back, have to go to the bathroom," Buffy told Spike, walking toward the bedroom door.  
  
"Okay," Spike said, still messing with the wood.  
Buffy finished in the bathroom and decided to put on the shortie nightgown she'd debated about bringing, "Oh well, debates over, now!" she thought, smiling.  
  
Before going back in the living room Buffy, noticed what she had thought was a closet door. Opening it, she discovered a staircase leading to the second floor. She'd forgotten all about the house having an upstairs, having only made a mental note of the fact, the first night they'd arrived. Since there wasn't a staircase anywhere in the house proper, to remind her, she hadn't given it anymore thought.  
  
"Spike," she called.  
  
"What is it, luv?" he called back.  
  
"Com'ere a minute, would you?"  
  
Spike walked in and saw her standing by the door, "See you found the 'secret annex,' eh?   
  
"Is it a secret?"  
  
"Not really, just put in as a last minute thing," he answered, rather evasively.  
  
"What's up there?" she pressed.  
  
"Wanna see?"  
  
"Yeah,"  
  
"Alright, come on then," he said, taking her hand as he lead her up the narrow staircase.  
  
It was pitch black and she held on tightly to Spike's hand. A few seconds later, they reached the second floor.  
  
"Stay there," he told Buffy.  
  
"Can't see to go anywhere," she replied.  
  
She heard a noise of something being opened and suddenly the small room was bathed in moonlight from a large skylight he'd opened.   
  
As her eyes adjusted, she looked around. In the middle of the room, underneath the skylight she could see an old Victorian couch, which probably was originally downstairs before he got the leather one. Against one wall were an easel and some paints. She turned and looked at the opposite wall and saw there were at least a dozen or more painted canvases.  
  
She let out a small gasp of surprise and walked over to them.   
  
"Spike! They're lovely. You told me that you didn't have any more drawings!"  
  
"I don't. I mean, I didn't even think about these paintings. Did them so long ago, didn't even remember these."  
  
"When did you do these?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Oh, probably about 40, 50 years ago," Spike answered.  
  
All appeared to be landscapes from the surrounding woods, except for one small 8" x 10" portrait of a woman that Buffy didn't recognize. She appeared to be in her late 50's or early 60's. She wore a long, light blue dress, with a lace type shawl, and a matching small head covering, like a scarf, only round. She sat on a couch, similar to the one that was in this room, in what appeared to be a drawing room. She had a serene look on her face.  
  
"Who's this?" Buffy asked.  
  
"My mum, least that's what I remember her looking like," Spike answered, a bit sadly.  
  
"She's lovely. I can see the resemblance," she said.  
  
"Can you? Must have done a pretty good job then, if you can see a family resemblance," Spike said, his voice pensive.  
  
Buffy nodded, still looking at William's mother, "What was her name?"  
  
"Anne."  
  
Her middle name.  
  
"What was she like?" she ventured, intrigued.  
  
"She was...kind, a gentle woman. Think you would have liked her, Buffy. Think she would have liked you, too," he said, sincerely, then let out this pained sort of scoffing sound, "better than..."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Nevermind, sorry, just something..."  
  
Buffy just looked at him, then back to the painting of his mother, trying to get a feel for the person who had given him birth, loved him, obviously been loved back by her son, William.  
  
"Your mum sort of reminded me of her," Spike said, suddenly.  
  
"Really? I'm glad," she said gently, remembering the times she'd come home to find him there, thinking it was all about her. Probably was just as much about Spike enjoying the mothering and hot cocoa with marshmallows her mom would give him... "Glad you thought so, Spike," she said, feeling sorry for him not having had a mother for such a long time and for herself, at the mention of Joyce.  
  
"How did she...?"  
  
"I can't Buffy..." Spike said, abruptly, "I just can't. I'll tell you someday, just not right now, okay?"  
  
"Okay," she said, dropping the subject of mothers. She gently put the canvas back where she'd found it.  
  
Buffy looked around; three walls seemed to be covered with vertical slats she hadn't noticed before, the other one with horizontal slats.  
  
"What are those for?" she asked, pointing to the slats.  
  
Spike walked over to one section of them, grabbed a thin pole with a hook on the end, grabbed a hold of a metal ring on one of the vertical slated windows, and with one whoosh, two-thirds of the room opened up, showing the outside. He walked over to the last wall, which had horizontal slats, and did the same, though individually on those.   
  
The room was now totally bathed in moonlight. Buffy walked over to the windows, seeing a perfect view of the sky and moon. They were above the trees up here.  
  
Spike walked over to where she was standing and put his arms around her, "What do you think?" he asked.  
  
She turned to look at him, "It's lovely, but I think you're a strange vampire, building a room with windows on all four sides, and a skylight... why'd you do it like this, Spike?  
  
He stared at her, then nodded; knowing she'd picked up on the unusualness of the design.  
  
He shrugged, "Had it made this way, so I could adjust the lighting, without being in it, when I painted; during the day or in moonlight, could adjust where the light fell..."  
  
"But you could've made the windows high enough, so that you'd never have had to worry about that, Spike," Buffy said, looking into his eyes, "I don't think you designed it for that at all, did you?" she asked, her eyes boring into his. "And what about the skylight? It opens up, I see."  
  
Still looking at her he said, "Yeah, well, I guess the lighting was an aside; I...I designed this," he said, pointing to the skylight, "as an escape hatch, should I ever need one."  
  
"And all the windows? What was their real purpose then? In case you needed a good dusting?" she asked, angrily, "a suicide annex?"  
  
"Buffy..." Spike sighed.  
  
"Oh, Spike," Buffy said, shuddering, as she thought of him up here one day; daylight; opening the slats.  
  
"Buffy," he said, taking hold of her arms, "I haven't used it for that, have I? Don't plan to either, okay?"   
  
"Don't worry, luv. I don't even think about this part of the house, haven't for a long time," Spike said, trying to placate Buffy.  
  
"Spike," Buffy said, putting her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, "you can't understand why this upsets me, can you?"  
  
"I can Buffy, you...you don't want to think of me as dust," he said, "which, really is a bloody improvement in the way you use to want me," Spike said, laughing, trying to make a joke, as he held her close, rubbing her back.  
  
Buffy put her mouth to Spike's ear, "I love you, Spike," she whispered, "can't stand to think of you..."  
  
"I know, sweet girl, I know. Don't worry. I'll be okay," he said soothingly, "no worries, okay?" he said, kissing her.  
  
Buffy kissed him back hard, willing herself to get off of this line of thinking. She was trying hard all day just to "be". Be in the now, in the moment, in the happy, be herself, or more like, the other self she would be if life hadn't made her the slayer. Ah, but then she wouldn't be with Spike...and so the circle came back around.  
  
"Draw me!" she said suddenly.  
  
"What?"   
  
"Draw me. Up here, Spike. I want you to draw me; I want to be your model."  
  
A slow smile crept into his features, "Okay," he said kissing her, "be right back."  
  
He left her standing there as he went down the stairs.   
  
She stood in the moonlight underneath the skylight, looking up at the sky. She hooked her thumbs underneath the straps of her nightgown and slipped it off.   
  
Spike came back up the stairs, carrying a chair, and his drawing paper and charcoal pencils.  
  
"Buffy?"   
  
"Over here."  
  
He walked into the room and then saw her, lying naked on the couch, wearing only the lovebird necklace.  
  
He felt himself stir as he looked down on the only woman he'd truly ever loved.  
  
"God, you're so beautiful," he said to her, mesmerized by the sight.  
  
She smiled at him, "Bet you say that to all the naked women you're about to draw," she teased.  
  
"Never," he said, seriously, voice thick with emotion.  
  
Shaking his head clear, he put the chair down about 5 feet from her, and turned the pad to a fresh page. He took out a charcoal pencil and looked at her.  
  
"How do you want me?" she asked.  
  
"All the time," he answered.  
  
She giggled, "I mean...how do you want me posed?  
  
He came over to her, brushed her hair off her face, moved one arms so it was behind her head, the other over her stomach; her belly button showing between her thumb and fingers. He had her turn sideways just a little at the waist, so that her knees were slightly bent, legs on top the other. At last, he lovingly arranged the necklace, straightening the chain so that the lovebirds lay just above her breasts.  
  
He kissed her softly on the lips and moved her head, so that she was facing him.  
  
He nodded, smiling and took his seat on the chair, picking up the paper and pencil.  
  
"Should I smile?" she asked.  
  
"Maybe just a little, now shhhhh!" he commanded.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Shhhhh!"  
Buffy lay there for about 45 minutes, as Spike drew her likeness. It was hard for her to lay still all that time; part of it, her restless nature, that, and it was cool in the room. She felt her nipples harden a long time ago, goosebumps rise on her skin, but watching Spike concentrate as he drew helped pass the time as it was as fascinating for her, as it was for him to be drawing her. She knew that she was giving him a new memory for this room, just like in the rest of the house. She hoped this would be the memory he would keep close to him, if he ever came up here again; if...when...  
  
She saw the paper turn over once again. She'd asked him once, if he'd had to redo it, and she'd been soundly treated to a round of cussing, 'bloody hells', and again ordered to be still, so this time, she said nothing.   
  
Spike put the pencil down and looked up at Buffy, again.   
  
"You can relax, now," he told her.  
  
"Thank God! This posing stuff is hard," she said, laughing, as she sat up, stretching her arms and legs.  
  
Spike came over to her, kneeling down by her legs and handing her the pad, "Can you see in this light?"  
  
Buffy nodded, as she looked at the first of what were about a half a dozen drawings he'd just done of her. He hadn't had to redo anything!  
  
"Spike, they're wonderful!" she said.   
  
"You like them?" he asked, hopefulness in his voice.  
  
"God, yes, Spike! These are as good as some drawings I use to see hanging in my mom's gallery," she said, with wonder at how well he could draw, make her look so lovely, even to herself, even naked.  
  
"I'm glad you approve of them, me lady," he said, modestly, with a small bow.  
  
He looked at her, then reached out to touch the necklace.   
  
She put her hand over his, once again, sandwiching the necklace between them.  
  
She looked at him, the moonlight making his hair seem all the whiter, his skin all the paler; face, hands, hair. A sculptured face that could have been molded by Michaelangelo. She remembered seeing pictures of The Statue of David, and The Pieta on a slide show, her high school art teacher had shown her class, after a trip to Rome and Florence.   
  
Buffy touched the side of his face with her fingers, tracing its beautiful, angled planes; his was a face that could have been on The Pieta, itself. Face of a fallen angel? Martyr? Did that make her Mary? She shook her head trying to steer her mind away from all too recent crucifixion images.  
  
She put her hands on his face, pulling him toward her for a kiss as she leaned forward, meeting him halfway.  
  
Spike rose from his knees, pulling Buffy up with him, putting his arms around her.  
  
He could feel her trembling as much in turmoil, as in passion, and he was perplexed by it.  
  
"Buffy," he said, hugging her, rubbing her back, "think we best get out of this room now. It's cold up here; you've been naked a long time."  
  
"There's ways to warm a girl up," she said, seductively, though her words had more desperation in them, than passion.  
  
Spike moaned, but still, the feeling, the confusion, the desperation she was giving off was making him desperate to get out of this annex.  
  
He stopped kissing her and took off his shirt, she helped him, eager for her hands to be on his skin once again, but instead he put it over her head and she automatically put her arms though the holes.  
  
"Hey!" she said, "what's the idea, Mr.?"  
  
"I want us to go back to the fireplace. Okay, Buffy?" Spike asked, looking earnestly at her. "Something playing with your head up here, making you unhappy. Just wanna be your 'fellow' this weekend, you to be 'my girl," alright? Don't want you being unhappy."  
  
The mood was broken and Buffy immediately sobered up from her mental fugue state, "I'm sorry, Spike. You're right, I was...thinking...too hard, too many things, too..."  
  
"I know," Spike said, kissing her, "it's alright, luv, I know...just, let's go now," he said, as he went around closing all the window slats and the skylight, as well.   
  
The last things he grabbed were the pad of paper, pencils, and her nightgown, that still lie where she dropped it.  
  
She let him lead her back down the stairs that led to her bedroom. She blinked at the light coming from the living room as he closed the door behind them.  
  
"Meet you back out there in five?" she asked.  
  
"Okay, if you're not out here, I'm coming to get you!" he warned, part in jest, part serious.  
  
"Promise," she said and went into the bathroom, where she allowed the tears she'd been holding onto to escape her eyes before she went back out; to the fire, to her lover, to the rest of her vacation away from the hell that awaited her.  
*Just a note, yes, I did mean Edouard Manet, not ClaudeMonet, they were both French Impressionists from the same time in the 1800's, however; Monet painted landscapes, Manet painted lots of portraits, as well as scenes. 


	31. THOU LOVEST ME, FOR MY NAME IS ‘WILL’

CHAPTER 31 - THOU LOVEST ME, FOR MY NAME IS 'WILL'   
  
Buffy pulled off Spike's black pullover and replaced it with the pajamas from last night. She'd been in and out of clothes so many times that day; she'd lost count. She smiled to herself at the thought, and also at losing them again, still.  
  
Spike had got the fire going satisfactorily once again and had sat down in front of the couch. He was leaning back, his eyes closed, when Buffy came into the room and took her place next to him.  
  
He sat up slowly, and looked over at her, smiling.  
  
"Changed again, I see," he half smirked.  
  
Rolling her eyes, she said, "Still half naked, I see."  
  
"Hey, your fault! What with all that pulling my clothes off..."  
  
She jabbed him playfully in the ribs as his arm went around her.  
  
They sat there for a while, watching the fire, when Buffy noticed the book she'd given Spike behind him on the couch, "Were you looking at it?" she asked.  
  
"At what?"  
  
"The Shakespeare Book," she said, picking it up.  
  
"Yeah, for a couple of minutes, while you were in there, before..."  
  
"You like it?"  
  
"Yeah, it's great, has all his plays and poems," Spike said, taking it from her.  
  
"Edna said maybe you'd read some to me," Buffy said.  
  
"Did she now?" Spike asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
"Okay then, what do you want to hear?"  
  
"Oh Spike, I don't know. I'm not too well versed, ha-ha, I made a joke - well versed," she said, looking at him as he rolled his eyes, "in Shakespeare; why don't you just pick something out."  
  
"Okay, I can do that, have some old favorites, back from when I attended Oxford," he said.  
  
"Oxford? You attended Oxford? Didn't Clinton go to Oxford?" Buffy asked, amazed.  
  
"Yeah, let any old wanker in these days. Liked 'im, but still - wanker!"  
  
"Okay, here we go," Spike said, finding a page, "plays or sonnets, luv?"   
  
"Whatever you want to read," Buffy said.  
  
"Well, plays are mostly really long...maybe I'll look through those, read some excerpts, read some sonnets. Shakespeare had some really great ones, how 'bout some of those, luv?"  
  
"Sure," Buffy said, not really caring as long as he was going to read to her, she didn't much care if it was the grocery list. "As much as I know about Shakespeare, might as well be," she thought.  
  
"He's really, surprisingly easy to understand, once you get the rhythm of the speech; the cadence, and once you get over feeling like you can't understand it," he said, reading her mind.  
  
"Okay, I'll give it a try, under one condition," she said.  
  
"What's that, then?" Spike asked.  
  
Buffy grabbed a pillow from the couch and put it on her lap and patted it, "You make yourself comfortable first, alright?"  
  
Spike smiled at her, as he sighed happily, "Whatever you want, pet," he said, knowing that it didn't get much better than this.  
  
The idea, desire had come to Buffy more than once over the past couple of days, and even weeks prior; back in Sunnydale when she'd sat next to him, of how lovely it would be to hold him on her lap, stroke his hair.  
  
She sighed, happily, too, as he took his place on her lap. She didn't even understand why this was so gratifying, why it stood out as such fulfillment; a deep yearning of hers. But it did, and it felt as wonderful to her as when their lips and bodies had finally come together...it was more than intimacy, it was familial, comfort, contact, cozy...  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You ready? You had a faraway look in your eyes," Spike said, looking at her questioningly.  
  
She sighed again, as she brought her hand up to stroke his hair, run her hands through it.  
  
"Feels good, pet," he said, smiling at her, his gentle Buffy.  
  
"Umhmmm. Go ahead, read, Spike," she said, closing her eyes.  
"Somethin' from Hamlet, then?"   
  
...Unto the voice and yielding of that body  
Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,  
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it  
As he in his particular act and place  
May give his saying deed; which is no further...  
He paused looking silently at more of the text, then read aloud:  
  
...If with too credent ear you list his songs,  
Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open...  
Buffy snickered, thinking to herself, "Chaste treasure, open indeed; wide open!"   
Spike ignored her.  
  
...And keep you in the rear of your affection,  
Out of the shot and danger of desire.  
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,  
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:  
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:  
The canker galls the infants of the spring,  
Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,  
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth  
Contagious blastments are most imminent.  
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear:  
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near...  
Buffy kept her eyes shut, as Spike continued to read, stroking his hair extra when he read something very touching.  
ROMEO & JULIET  
...My bounty is as boundless as the sea,  
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,  
The more I have, for both are infinite...   
...This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,  
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet...  
.. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek...  
Buffy touched Spike's cheek, smiling with eyes still shut.  
MACBETH  
...The sin of my ingratitude even now  
Was heavy on me: thou art so far before   
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow  
To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved,  
That the proportion both of thanks and payment  
Might have been mine! only I have left to say,   
More is thy due than more than all can pay...  
... The service and the loyalty I owe,  
In doing it, pays itself...  
...safe toward your love and honour...  
... My plenteous joys...  
  
...wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves  
In drops of sorrow...  
  
... Stars, hide your fires;  
Let not light see my black and deep desires:  
The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be,  
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see...  
  
OTHELLO TO DESDEMONA  
  
...O my fair warrior!  
It gives me wonder great as my content  
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!  
If after every tempest come such calms,  
May the winds blow till they have wakened death!  
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas  
Olympus-high, and duck again as low  
As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,  
'Twere now to be most happy, for I fear  
My soul hath her content so absolute  
That not another comfort like to this  
Succeeds in unknown fate...  
Spike stopped reading to look up at Buffy.  
Noticing he'd stopped, she looked down at him, "Why'd you stop?"  
"Want me to go on?" he asked.  
"Yeah, please, I was kind of getting into it," she said, stroking his hair.  
"Okay," he said, reaching up to put his hand to her cheek, "I'll read some of the sonnets."   
  
SONNET 17   
Who will believe my verse in time to come, If it were fill'd with your most high deserts? Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb Which hides your life and shows not half your parts. If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say 'This poet lies: Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.' So should my papers yellow'd with their age Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than tongue, And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage And stretched metre of an antique song: But were some child of yours alive that time, You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme  
SONNET 18   
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.  
SONNET 19   
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood; Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, To the wide world and all her fading sweets; But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; Him in thy course untainted do allow For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young.  
SONNET 20   
A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women's fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all 'hues' in his controlling, Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth. And for a woman wert thou first created; Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, And by addition me of thee defeated, By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure, Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.  
SONNET 56   
Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd, To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might: So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness, To-morrow see again, and do not kill The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness. Let this sad interim like the ocean be* Which parts the shore, where two contracted new Come daily to the banks, that, when they see Return of love, more blest may be the view; Else call it winter, which being full of care Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.  
SONNET 75   
So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found; Now proud as an enjoyer and anon Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure, Now counting best to be with you alone, Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure; Sometime all full with feasting on your sight And by and by clean starved for a look; Possessing or pursuing no delight, Save what is had or must from you be took. Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, Or gluttoning on all, or all away.  
SONNET 78   
So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse And found such fair assistance in my verse As every alien pen hath got my use And under thee their poesy disperse. Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing And heavy ignorance aloft to fly Have added feathers to the learned's wing And given grace a double majesty. Yet be most proud of that which I compile, Whose influence is thine and born of thee: In others' works thou dost but mend the style, And arts with thy sweet graces graced be; But thou art all my art and dost advance As high as learning my rude ignorance.  
SONNET 87   
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgment making. Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.  
SONNET 107   
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love control, Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured And the sad augurs mock their own presage; Incertainties now crown themselves assured And peace proclaims olives of endless age. Now with the drops of this most balmy time My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes, Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme, While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes: And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.  
SONNET 116   
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.  
SONNET 129   
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame. Is lust in action; and till action, lust Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had   
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad;   
Mad in pursuit and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;   
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.   
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.  
SONNET 154   
The little Love-god lying once asleep Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand The fairest votary took up that fire Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd; And so the general of hot desire Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd. This brand she quenched in a cool well by, Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, Growing a bath and healthful remedy For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall, Came there for cure, and this by that I prove, Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.  
SONNET 135   
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,' And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus; More than enough am I that vex thee still, To thy sweet will making addition thus. Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? Shall will in others seem right gracious, And in my will no fair acceptance shine? The sea all water, yet receives rain still And in abundance addeth to his store; So thou, being rich in 'Will,' add to thy 'Will' One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more. Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill; Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.'  
SONNET 136 *  
If thy soul cheque thee that I come so near, Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will,' And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. 'Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love, Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. In things of great receipt with ease we prove Among a number one is reckon'd none: Then in the number let me pass untold, Though in thy stores' account I one must be; For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold That nothing me, a something sweet to thee: Make but my name thy love, and love that still, And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will.'  
She laughed as he read the last ones to her, "I see that Shakespeare had somewhat of an ego, and a sense of humor!"  
"Yeah, that he did, pet," Spike said, "Make but my name thy love, and love that still, And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will'," he said quoting the last line of the sonnet and looking up at her with soulful, blue eyes that held only love for her.  
"I do love you, Will," Buffy said, softly, bending over to kiss him.  
Spike put the book down, but as he reached up to bring her head towards him, his eye caught sight of something. He reached up and turned the necklace over.  
"Hmmmm."  
"What is it?" Buffy asked.  
"Did you look at the back of the necklace?"  
"No, should I have?"  
"Maybe..."  
"What is it?"  
"Initials."  
"Initials?"  
"Yeah, etched right on the back," Spike answered.  
"What do they say?"  
"There's a W and an E."  
"W and E...? Can't be Edna, can it? Wasn't her husband's name Lawrence?" Buffy asked.  
"Yeah, Lawrence was his name," Spike answered, nodding.  
Curiosity getting the better of her, she undid the necklace and took a look. There on each side of the back of the lovebirds were the initials.  
She stopped, suddenly, and smiled.  
Spike looked at her, then knew why she was smiling.  
"Elizabeth and William?" he asked, amazed by the synchronicity of it all.  
She nodded, "It's perfect, isn't it? Like Karma, or something. Elizabeth and William, what's the chance..."  
He stopped her talking by grabbing her face and kissing her hard.  
Still kissing her, he took the necklace from her and put it back around her neck.  
He broke off the kiss, in order to sit up. He took the pillow off her lap, as he turned around to face her, slipping his legs underneath hers, which were out in front of her; pulled her forward, towards him, so she was now half on his lap, his arms around her.  
She looked into his eyes and saw the man, all of the man who'd at times been concealed, but never totally gone; man, demon, monster, savior, protector, fighter, lover...she wanted them all; had to have them all.  
Thanks to the Bard, himself, and to Mel, for suggesting Othello. Also, anyone who's read my first story, SEEING YOU will recognize that, once again, I've used Sonnet 36. Just can't help myself, I just love the idea of Spike's inner William quoting W.S. referring to himself in double entendre. 


	32. A GOOD DEAL

CHAPTER 32 - A GOOD DEAL  
"Make love to me. William," she said, addressing the man.  
  
"Buffy!" the name escaped his lips like a strangled cry, as he pulled her forcefully closer to him, so that she was now sitting on his lap, legs opened wide. He could feel the heat from her, as they ground against each other in mutual desire, mutual intensity.   
  
Everytime he touched her, it was as if he hadn't touched her for a year, years, forever. Actually, that feeling could be aptly applied to last night, but it had always been like that, and he suspected, were he was to live with her one hundred years, one hundred, hundred years, that it would still, always be like that. He could never imagine wanting her any less, not being thrilled with the touch of her skin, her lips on him, her small, strong hands on his body, her heat seeking him out, the sound of his name on her lips, the sound of her moans as her passion mounted, as he...  
  
Clinging to him with one hand, she put her hand down between them, trying to set him free.  
  
Suddenly, he raised up his knees and holding onto her tightly, stood up; her legs still over his.  
  
At the sudden upward movement, Buffy, gasped, as she tightened her legs around him as he rose.  
  
She looked at him with eyes that carried the memories of the first time she'd wrapped her legs around him, initiating the consummation of the affair that nearly killed both of them; to the unbelievable sweetness that been able to blunt, if not wash away, past hurts, past guilts, past angers.  
  
He put his hands underneath her legs to help her with balance as he carried her to the bedroom. Tonight would not be about her mounting him against a wall.  
  
He turned around at the edge of the bed and sat down, so that he legs now had contact with the mattress. He lay down and she came with him, on top of him.  
  
Her mouth sought his out, as she straightened out the length of her body, to match it to his. She leaned up slightly on one arm to help give him access to the buttons of her pajamas, switching arms, so he could pull it off altogether. They were now bare breasts to bare chest.  
  
"Spike," she sighed, as that half of her body made contact with his.  
  
Running his hand down her back, he came in contact with the elastic of her pajama bottoms and slipped his hand under it, firmly taking hold of her bottom as he pulled her down further onto him.  
  
Buffy raised up slightly on both arms, as she arched her back. His mouth left hers, as his other hand and his mouth sought out her breast. Gently at first, he suckled her nipple into his mouth as his hand found her other breast. His tongue twirled on her nipple as he pulled it more strongly into his mouth; she groaned as she lost herself in the delicious sensation of his expert touch.   
  
Before Spike, she'd never had much of any reaction to someone either touching or sucking at her breast. She'd figured it was just for the man's pleasure, mostly, and was willing to go along with it, for that sake. Neither good nor bad, it had been a sexually neutral experience.  
  
But with Spike, she'd discovered that his slightest touch at her breast gave way to an immediate sexual response between her legs, as if he were there already. It was an amazing feeling. All connected - lips, ears, neck, brain, breast, stomach...all crying out for him, for him to be inside her.  
  
He sucked her breast hard now, as the heat between them ignited like gasoline on a fire. She rubbed against him, increasing the friction. He was so achingly hard for her, he could barely stand it; her heat, her warmth, her touch; all made him practically delirious every time they came together.  
  
He was a fool for her love, but he didn't care. Not a bit.  
  
Suddenly, he felt her hand undoing his pants, and then he was free; into her waiting hand, as she got up on her knees and began to pull his pants down toward his knees, then off, altogether. She sat on her knees by his feet, as her small hands ran themselves up the outsides of his legs, under his knees, up the sides of his hips. He looked at her as she did so, like a goddess discovering the topography of her long, lost kingdom.   
  
Her hands then moved to the inside of his legs, starting with his ankles, as she slowly moved upwards. As much as he wanted to keep watching her, Spike closed his eyes, helpless, in response to the sensation. She worked her hands upward to his inner thigh. Ever so slightly her hands touched his s*****m. He groaned as he hardened even further.  
  
She smiled to herself, knowing the effect she was having. She scooted upwards on his legs, rubbing herself through the pajamas, as she did so. Her hands now were on his stomach, directly above and on either side of his cock. She dallied with him like this for another couple of moments, before finally putting her hands on him.  
  
"Buffy," he moaned aloud, as she finally touched him.  
  
She stroked him for a few minutes, playing with all parts of him, then bent over and took him into her mouth.  
  
Suddenly, Spike opened his eyes, almost startled, "You don't have to do that, luv," he said to her.  
  
She removed her mouth, "I know, want to," she said, resuming.  
  
He lifted her gently off of him, "No, you don't have to, luv," he said, a little more insistently this time.  
  
It dawned on her why he was making it an issue. Not only had it been a game with them last year, one that she'd always, determinedly won, but also, perhaps, somewhere in the Victorian part of William's brain, he didn't think it nice; that is, for him to be receiving pleasure, while she wasn't.  
  
Before Spike, she'd never had sex that was anything other than front to front. No putting mouths in strange places, no other positions. The fact that she'd liked it, and with him - soulless Spike, last year, had made her think that it truly was a perverse sort of sexual pleasure only reserved for the truly degraded. But now she knew better. When you loved someone you didn't mind using your mouth, wanted to taste the person all over, nothing dirty or degrading about it.  
  
She slid her body back on top of his and kissed him gently at first, then harder. She put her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Spike, I know I don't have to, but I want to."  
  
He turned to kiss her hard and she responded, but again broke off the kiss to whisper again into his ear, "Don't you want to know why?" she asked, seductively, throwing him off.  
  
"Why, that luv? " Spike said, playing along, aroused by her voice.  
  
She raised up and looked him in the eyes, seriously, without pretense or playfulness. Kissing him softly, she whispered into his ear, "I want to, because I'm in love with you, Spike." Again, she rose to face him, to look at what she knew would be his amazed, earnest eyes; "In love with you!" she spoke the words softly, but distinctly.  
  
"In love?"   
  
She nodded, taking his face into her hands, smiling, "IN love. Me with you; Buffy with Spike," then added, giggling, "Elizabeth with William."  
  
"Now that we have that out of the way, will you please allow me to show you just how much?" she asked, lips pouty.  
  
He just nodded, dumbly, blind-struck by her words, her openness...  
  
As she rose back up to do what she aimed to do, he quickly added, "But, only if you let me show you how much I love you, too. After."  
  
"Deal," she said, smiling, before her mouth got too busy to answer.  
"Oh, Buffy! God, don't stop," Spike gasped as she brought him closer and closer to orgasm. His hands held her head, guided her, but didn't make her go down any further than was comfortable. She'd felt her own excitement increasing as he switched to stroking her back, in rhythm to what he was feeling, rubbed her breasts, any bit of skin available as he was driven closer and closer to release.  
  
She expertly kept him on the brink for a while longer, until she herself was so excited by his reaction, that she couldn't do anything other than what his body was silently begging of her mouth to finish.  
  
She sucked him harder, up and down her mouth went, caressing his b***s, until she felt him go even harder, as his hands pulled at her hair, moved her head. Then just as he was about to come, he tried to pull her up. He didn't want her to have to...  
  
She resisted, not wanting to let him go, wanting to show him she could be there for his end, too.  
  
"Buffy!" he called, as he came.  
  
"Oh God, Buffy," he said, moments later, as he pulled her back atop him, "you're so good to me!"  
  
He then flipped her over, so that he was now on top of her.  
  
"So good to me, pet, so sweet," he said, between kissing her lips, her nose, her eyelids, her ears, her neck...  
  
"Spike," she sighed.  
  
"Spike's gonna take care of his girl, his Buffy, his love," he mumbled, "right now, pet, don't you worry."  
  
"Not worried," she mumbled back, "happy."  
  
He licked her neck and felt her shiver. He could feel the blood pulsing under he skin. Soft, delicate skin. Feel the salt and sweat of her. He grazed her neck with blunt teeth as she groaned in excitement to his body over hers, the weight of him pressing her down, his once again hardness, pressing against her, seeking her out.  
  
He rolled her onto her stomach and got on top her back. He lay on top of her, kissing her neck as she moaned in pleasure at the feel of him from behind. He arched up to his knees, his mouth kissing the back of her neck, down her back, her spine as he rubbed his hands down her back. He slid further down her legs as he kissed the soft curves of her behind.  
  
Buffy was moaning into the pillow as she rubbed against the mattress.  
  
"Raise up on your hands and knees, luv," he said to her.  
  
As she did, he turned over, so that he was on his back, his face underneath her.  
  
He spread her legs and eased her onto his waiting mouth.   
  
She moaned as his tongue hit that most sensitive, throbbing area. As she moved herself against his mouth his thumbs rubbed on either side of her opening, pulling the skin, making her feel sensations inside her walls. Finally he put his fingers inside her. He could feel her juices running down his fingers onto his face as his tongue worked it's magic.   
  
"Oh, Spike, God, oh, God," Buffy moaned as she rubbed back and forth against him, his sensual mouth. When she felt his fingers enter her, well... it had been a good thing he'd pulled her toward the middle of the bed or she would have been hitting the headboard each time she lurched forward.   
  
He loved the way Buffy tasted, juices flowing, swollen, red, wanting him, "So pretty," he mumbled, "all that sweet honey dripping down," he said between licks.  
  
God! His voice! She thought she was going to lose it right then. He knew how he affected her, talking sweet to her with that lovely voice of his right when she was almost out of her mind, taking her to another level of desire.  
  
Juices flowing, he could feel her nearing its peak on his tongue. Right before she came she always gave off an almost imperceptible tangy, almost electrical sort of charge. Like having his tongue on a 9-volt battery.*   
  
"Come for me, Buffy," he murmured, "give it to me, give yourself to me. You're mine, all mine!"  
  
"Spike!" she nearly screamed as within seconds of his last words she came; explosively. And then, seconds later, as he continued licking her, she came again, and again, a third time.  
  
Fearing she was going to hurt herself, he finally let go, as he eased himself out from under her, as she collapsed onto her side.  
  
"You alright, pet?" he asked her, at her side, once again.  
  
All she could do was nod.  
  
"Never had a multiple before?"  
  
Buffy shook her head, staring at him, "I only thought that was a myth," she whispered, "didn't really know..."  
  
He kissed her, "Wanna know a secret, luv?" he asked, "I didn't know either, never gave one before," he said with a grin.  
  
She grinned back.  
  
"Better use those sparingly, Mr. Worthington," she said, laughing a little.  
  
"I promise," he said, seriously, holding her close.  
  
She closed her eyes for what she thought was a moment, but fell asleep, deeply, in Spike's arms.  
  
Spike was tired, but he couldn't sleep, didn't want to miss one moment of this experience, of Buffy. God, he couldn't believe she was here, with him, here. It really was like Sunnydale was another world, a separate world that took, and took, and took, but never gave.   
  
Bugger.  
  
He quietly eased her out of his arms so he could do his duty to her. He picked up the cell phone, connected it to the modem, and placed a pillow over the whole thing, as to not disturb Buffy when it dialed up, and called home. Seeing that everything was alright, he hung up, ignoring Willow's IM, with a curt, "Later," and looking at an email that Wood had sent her, telling her that he'd enjoyed dinner, blah, blah. He deleted it, then felt guilty, "Better 'fess up in the morning," he thought, not giving Wood any more thought. He knew where he stood now, where he fit in, fit in with her. Where he always was supposed to; he wasn't worried anymore.  
  
He disconnected, and once again, brought Buffy back into his arms. Still asleep, she nestled back into his tender embrace.  
  
He bent over and kissed the top of her head. Buffy, his Buffy. He looked up at the ceiling, at the heavens. Why couldn't they've always had this? He asked, but knew the answer. "Because, you poof, you were beneath her, still are. History of killing and mayhem doesn't usually wind up with boy getting girl. Especially, not as good as this one is," he reminded himself, none-too-kindly.  
  
But she's here now, forgiven you for all of it, let you move on, gave you a reason to hold on when there was no other...  
  
"Buffy, I love you so," he said softly to her, as she slept on, in a safe, dreamless slumber.  
  
An hour later, Buffy woke up. Before she could open her eyes, she felt him, knew he was there, not only because she was in his arms, but could feel his consciousness, knew he was awake.  
  
She opened her eyes to find his blue ones looking at her, "Didn't sleep?"  
  
He shook his head, "Just watching you sleep pet," he smiled at her.  
  
"Oh, also, called home, everything's fine," he said, briefly.  
  
"Thank you for not forgetting; in the midst of all this," she smiled, slightly blushing.  
  
"Wouldn't do that, pet, much as I might want to," he said, smiling back at her in a way that let her know he knew exactly what she meant, "made a promise to a lady."  
  
Her arms went around him, and she kissed him softly at first, as she pulled him over on top of him.   
  
He kissed her back, softly at first, then harder, as her mouth was more insistent for his. He felt her legs go around his calves, interlocking with his legs, as she drew him closer and closer to her body.   
  
Without much adieu this time, he put his hand down between them, adjusted himself for the ready and in seconds, he was inside her once again. Swimming, drowning, it made no difference.  
  
He looked at her, as she looked at him, her eyes reflecting back his feelings, instead of turning away from them. And he knew then. Knew it was this essence, between lovers, that poets tried to put into words, singers into songs, and writers into words.   
  
Of course, it all came up short. It was the inexplicable, the unexplainable, the sacredness of love; that elusive metaphor that inspired those who create, to create, those that love, to love even more.  
  
Spike was happy for once, to be in the latter category.  
  
Buffy looked up at Spike, sharp lines of his face softened by the glow of candles, hair mussed up and natural, blue eyes looking back into her green ones as she rocked to the rhythm of their lovemaking.  
  
They continued to look at each other, silently; no words necessary anymore, as their bodies moved in unison, until, no longer able to hold each other's glance, eyes snapped shut as they crashed together, in wave after wave of mutual pleasure and release.  
  
Afterward, he lay on top her, her arms holding him protectively in a post-loving embrace. As much as he hated to move, some minutes later, Spike rolled off of Buffy, but she clung on, still connected, until they were both side to side, entwined, her leg over his thigh, him still inside her, as she nestled down into his chest and shut her eyes. And they slept, occasionally, half waking to kiss, to resume lovemaking, until falling back to sleep, still within each others embraces.  
  
*Note: I do a little plagiarizing in this story, but don't worry, it's only from my own first story, called SEEING YOU. It's a description that I find most delicious, in fact...oh, but mr. spikealicious says it's perfectly okay to quote him, again. ?... nevermind. 


	33. NO REGRETS

CHAPTER 33 - NO REGRETS  
  
Toward morning, bodies finally came apart as exhaustion and deep sleep overtook them.  
  
Before dawn, Spike awoke, and gently disentangling himself from Buffy, he quietly got up and went to the desk in the living room, unlocked the top drawer and took out the lock box he'd taken from his crypt the night he saved Buffy from the junior vamps.   
  
He opened it and counted the money, estimating what the jewels might be worth. He counted out about what he figured he 'owed' Xander and Giles over the years, plus an extra thousand dollars.  
  
He then wrote two notes:   
Dear Clem,   
  
Please drop this off with Edna to give to Lawrence Jr.  
  
Thanks for everything you've done this weekend and over the years for me, mate.  
I appreciate it.  
  
If I don't make it, please look after Buffy and Dawn. I've left this place to them, with the clause that you can stay on as long as you like.   
  
In any case, you have your investments and will be set, whatever you decide to do.  
  
Hopefully, it won't come to this.  
  
Your Best Mate,  
  
Spike  
  
P.S. Don't come back to Sunnydale, stay here! Things are going to get really bad; it may not even be safe here...if that's the case, pack up and head north!  
He then wrote a second letter.  
Dear Lawrence,  
  
I forgot to mention a couple of things when we talked.  
  
I'm leaving a lock box with about $50,000 cash and jewels with Edna. Please invest this in some sort of college fund for Dawn Summers. If you need her SS#, I'm sure that can be provided. Make her sister, Elizabeth Anne Summers the guardian of the trust fund, unless...then please either be the guardian yourself, or have the bank distribute it, until she's 21 years old. She's 16 or 17, now.  
  
Thank you, as always.  
  
Your friend,  
  
William Worthington  
Spike sealed the letter in an envelope and addressed it to Lawrence McKennitt and placed it inside the lock box.  
  
The other letter he addressed simply to 'Clem,' and put it above the mantle, in front of the lock box.  
  
He took a pack of smokes from end table and lit one, as he looked at the burning embers in the fireplace.   
  
He walked over to the door of the bedroom and looked in. Spike watched the gentle rise and fall of the blankets, under which Buffy slept. His angel. His heart. His only love.  
  
He threw the butt of his cigarette into the fireplace, then quietly got back under the covers with Buffy. She murmured his name softly, as they found their place in each other's arms again. Weary from the night and coming morning, Spike closed his eyes as Buffy's warmth lulled him back to sleep.  
  
An hour later, Buffy woke to the birds singing. She smiled to herself at that small, blessed pleasure; a normal pleasure, for a 'normal' girl.   
  
Buffy looked over at Spike, asleep in her arms, nestled down between her breasts. She kissed him softly on the top of his head, and he nestled further. She lay there stroking his back for a few minutes, regretting that nature was strongly calling out to her. She didn't want to get up and leave Spike, but if she didn't she was afraid she would wet herself.   
  
Regretfully, she pulled herself loose from his arms, replacing herself, with a pillow for him to rest against, and got up.  
  
She used the bathroom and decided to take a quick shower. While drying off, she decided to surprise Spike with breakfast in bed.  
  
Using the adjoining door to 'her room,' she quickly got dressed, then went out to the kitchen.   
  
The early morning sun was beginning to shine brightly now. Buffy went out onto the porch to see how Snowman Spike was faring. He was still standing, but he was getting a little melt-y around the edges. If it warmed up much more, along with the sun, she knew that he'd be done for. It made her sad. She wanted to think of Snowman Spike standing as a sentry, when they left.   
  
Until...they returned? She shook the fantasy out of her head, knowing it was more than she could ever hope for.   
  
She returned to the kitchen and started looking around for things to make for breakfast. "Ummmm," she said when she saw a loaf of 'Dudley's Bakery, Sourdough Bread' in the bag Edna had sent over. "French Toast it is then!" she decided, "Or do they call it Freedom Toast now?" she laughed at the absurdity.   
  
Buffy found a can of coffee and started the old fashioned percolator, perking.  
  
She decided to wait a while before making breakfast; let Spike sleep a while longer. She took a cup of coffee and went out into the living room. Sitting down on the couch, she drank her coffee and looked around at the room, trying to remember everything about it, so that she would never forget each and every detail. This place; Spike's place, the house that 'William built,'where she'd realized who she really was, as a woman; what she could become, if only...  
  
Her eyes fell to rest on the Shakespeare book that Spike had read from the night before. Setting down her coffee cup, she picked up the book, "Well, I can read, too, right?" she asked herself.   
  
Skimming over some of the plays, she came to the sonnets. Picking one at random, she read:  
  
SONNET 32 If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, Compare them with the bettering of the time, And though they be outstripp'd by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, Exceeded by the height of happier men. O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought: 'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, A dearer birth than this his love had brought, arch in ranks of better equipage: But since he died and poets better prove,  
  
She swallowed hard.  
  
SONNET 35 No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. All men make faults, and even I in this, Authorizing thy trespass with compare, Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss, Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are; For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense-- Thy adverse party is thy advocate-- And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence: Such civil war is in my love and hate That I an accessary needs must be To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me  
  
Shaking, now, she read on.  
  
SONNET 81 Or I shall live your epitaph to make, Or you survive when I in earth am rotten; From hence your memory death cannot take, Although in me each part will be forgotten. Your name from hence immortal life shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, And tongues to be your being shall rehearse When all the breathers of this world are dead; You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen-- Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.  
  
Tears now freely coursed down her cheeks.  
  
Breakfast now forgotten she stood up and went to the bedroom door. Trembling, she looked in at Spike, peacefully sleeping.   
  
Slowly she walked over toward the bed and looked down at him, his features soft and relaxed, she stood silent, memorizing each exquisite detail of his face, as if that could keep him safe; within her. Tears streamed down her eyes as she imagined him here, lost, alone, lonely, afraid, bereft - all because of her.  
  
Shaking, she reached out softly to put her hand to her face, when all of a sudden blue eyes opened. A slow languid smile started forming around his mouth, until he saw her face.   
  
He shot bolt upright in bed, "What's the matter?" he asked in alarm.  
  
"Spike, oh God Spike!" she said, a sob escaping her lips, "what have I done to you?"   
  
"What are you talking about? You haven't done anything to me, Buffy!" he said, scared at the wild-eyed state she was in. Pulling her toward him, she collapsed onto the bed, into his arms.  
  
"I have, I have," she sobbed against him.  
  
"You haven't, luv. Buffy, what's the matter? Tell me!" he pleaded with her.  
"You'll be lonely! I've made...you'll be...when I'm gone..." she cried, "don't you see? I should never have let...I don't want you to be...alone!"  
  
"What are you talking about, Slayer? I'm not alone! You're not alone! We're here, together. You're not going to..." he stopped, all of a sudden knowing what she meant.  
  
"NO! You are NOT going to die, not again! You can't! I won't let you!"  
  
"You can't stop it from happening," she cried, "you can't! But I could have stopped this..."  
  
"Stopped what?" he asked, angrily, "stopped yourself from loving me? Stopped me from loving you? Fat chance! Tried that already, luv, didn't work! Just went out and got a soul. For you, remember?" he said, bitterly.  
  
"Now you want to what? Quit? Want to tell me not to love you? NOW? Know what?" he asked, sitting up, angrily.  
  
"What," she asked in a small, scared voice, knowing he was going to tell her she wasn't worth the bother.  
  
"I don't care what you say! I'm going to love you, until one of us is dead, and hopefully, that will be me, first, until...until the ends of the earth. You can't stop me from loving you, not anymore, not now!" he said, shaking her.  
  
Buffy was crying, part relief, part sorrow.  
  
"I know I can't Spike, it's just...just...," she cried, holding on to him as if he were life, itself, "I don't want you to be alone, lonely. I can't stand the thought that I'll be responsible for that. I love you, Spike, I don't want to leave you, not ever, don't want..."  
  
"Oh, Buffy! Luv! Don't want you to leave me, ever! Please, luv! Don't do this to yourself!" he said, stroking her hair. "I'll be alright, promise," he said, kissing her tears away, "don't worry about old Spike, here, luv."  
  
Buffy's heart was breaking with the knowledge that she'd given him so little, for such a short amount of time, and that later today, they'd be going back...back to Sunnydale, back to face The First...back to the possible end for one of them...  
  
She couldn't help but feel that she'd made this all the worse for Spike. That if she didn't make it, he would...  
  
He kissed her, breaking her train of thought, "Don't you go all weepy on me, now, Summers! And don't you dare regret coming here!"  
  
"I don't, Spike...it's been wonderful, it's just that..." she stammered.  
  
"Just that if you didn't, and something happens to you now, that I'd miss you any less?" he asked.  
  
She nodded, through fresh tears.  
  
"Bollocks!"  
  
She looked at him.  
  
"Knew you loved me...well, at least hoped you did. If something happens, and I'm not going to let it, so this is just hypothetical; if something happens to you, I'll curse the fates, grieve, miss you, and still I'll always love you. No more and no less! No matter what, even if 'this' didn't happen. Don't you know that?"  
  
She nodded, "But doesn't this, us," she said, pointing at the two of them, "doesn't it make it worse? It does for me. I fear losing you, as much as you losing me, because..."  
  
"It's love, pet. Love. When you love someone, you always know how goddamned much it will hurt if you ever lose them. Terribly, horribly, painfully, torturously, but still...you love because if you don't, well then...you've already lost something of yourself."  
  
"It's not fair! It shouldn't be like this, shouldn't hurt to love someone," Buffy said, through fresh tears.  
  
"No, it's not fair, but isn't it worse to love someone and not show it?" Spike asked, "and if you love someone and never tell them, or didn't get the chance to show them, then ALL you have is regret. That's worse, I know!" he said.  
  
"Spike...Spike," she said, clinging to him, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, allow myself to love you sooner."  
  
"Buffy, it's alright, pet. It just had to be the way it had to be," he said, stroking her back, "no regrets, okay?"  
  
She looked at him, at the man; the person who had loved her more than anyone else had her entire life.  
  
"What good is it going to do either of us to have regrets now?" Spike asked her, "you love me and I love you. We both know each other's hearts. Now and forever. I can't regret this, even if the world ends for either or both of us tomorrow. Can't. Won't. You shouldn't either, Buffy," he said, as he wiped her tears away. "Don't you ever regret that you let yourself love me, not on my account! I'll never regret your loving me, my loving you. Never. Ever! Do you hear me?"  
  
Buffy just nodded, "I won't, Spike. I promise. I do love you and I have no regrets for loving you. I won't. I...I just don't want you to hurt..."  
  
Spike just held onto her, there was nothing more he could say. He wouldn't want her to hurt either, but it was breaking his heart that she was hurting for him, about him losing her. Losing her. He shuddered and held on to her tighter, feeling a lump rising in his throat.  
  
Not if he had anything to say about it! He would not lose her! Not again!  
  
He felt his eyes grow moist, but would not let himself cry, wouldn't give into her fears. He couldn't stand the thought of losing her and she knew it, but he wouldn't let her see him like this. Have to be brave, for her, his girl, his heart.  
  
Despite her protests, Spike assured Buffy he would happily finish breakfast after she got a little more shut-eye. She was exhausted after the emotional upheaval she had just been through. He helped her gently out of her clothes and back under the covers.  
  
He held her until she fell back asleep, then an idea occurred to him. He eased himself up and went to the living room and gathered his drawing pad, pencils, and a chair.  
  
He came back a few minutes later, and quietly put the chair at the side of the bed.  
  
An hour later, Buffy woke up, a sense of Spike nearby. She opened her eyes and smiled at him in surprise, "Hey, no fair! I could be drooling in my sleep!" she said.  
  
"No, no drool...well, just a little, but I didn't include that," he joked.  
  
She raised herself up on her elbow; "Can I see?"  
  
"In a couple of minutes. How about I get a couple more, with your eyes open?"  
  
"Okay," she said, and she settled back onto the pillows and looked at him, while he drew.  
  
"Spike?" she asked, having had an idea.  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Could you draw a couple of pictures of just the necklace?" she asked, as she rubbed it lovingly.  
  
"Ahead of you there, luv; already did," he replied.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Shhhhh!" he commanded, as he concentrated on his drawings.  
About 20 minutes later, he put down the pencils, "Here," he said, shyly, handing her the drawing pad.  
  
Once again, Buffy was awed by how distinctly lovely each drawing was. There were about four of each, her sleeping, her awake, and the lovebird necklace, including two from the back of the necklace; the side that had the W and the E etched onto it.  
  
"You're so good, Spike, so very good!" she said, meaning it about much more than this one thing.  
  
"May I...?" she started to ask.  
  
He quickly nodded, as she took out some of the drawings out of the book to take home. 


	34. CHEATING

CHAPTER 34 - CHEATING  
"You hungry?" Spike asked Buffy.  
"I started to make breakfast...earlier...before..."  
He nodded.  
"Made some coffee, it's probably old now. I was going to make some French Toast out of Dudley's Bakery Sourdough Bread," Buffy said.  
  
"I can do that," Spike replied.  
"No, let me, please?" Buffy said.  
"Why don't we both...?" Spike suggested.  
"Okay...that would be nice," Buffy said, sitting up. She took his hands in hers and pulled him toward her until his forehead rested on hers.  
  
"I love you, you know that, don't you?" she asked him, a hint of desperation in her voice.  
He nodded, "I know, and I love you, too, you know I do, but please, Buffy," he said, a lump rising in his throat, "don't. Not now, don't..."  
  
"Okay," she said kissing him softly on the mouth, "okay."  
"Come on, let's get some breakfast," he said, taking her hand and pulling her up.  
  
"Wait!" she said, "I have to put some clothes on!"  
"Don't know why," he said, looking at her from top to bottom, as he licked his lips.  
"Because, it would be icky to sit on the kitchen chairs butt naked!" she quipped, making a face.  
"In that case, last one dressed is a rotten egg!" he said, as he playfully pushed her back onto the bed and grabbed at his jeans.  
  
"Cheater!" she giggled, as she jumped up and lunged at him, pulling the jeans off his one leg he'd managed to get on, then grabbed at her own.   
  
They wrestled about on the floor and bed for a few minutes, each trying to thwart the other's attempt at getting clothes on, until they both collapsed on the bed in laughter.  
  
He pulled her on top of him and kissed her hard.  
"That's my girl!" he said, in a low voice, as she moaned passionately at the sudden change in venue, from playfulness to desire.   
  
Buffy broke off the kiss to look at him, "I am your girl, Spike. Always. And you're my guy, you're my man. Mine," she said, kissing him hard again, tongue searching out his.   
  
It was his turn to moan as she ground herself into him, kissed his neck, his ears, his mouth, his chest...  
  
He kissed trails of kisses down her neck until his mouth found her breast. Moaning again, Buffy raised herself until she straddled him just right, then brought her hand down between them and guided him inside.  
  
"Luv, Buffy," Spike murmured, "don't know how you make me feel, each time, everytime I find you so wet, so hot - for me," he said, a look of amazement in his eyes, "Buffy..." he said to her, kissing her again, as he thrust upward, into her, harder and harder as she ground down on him, with the same intensity, same fervor.  
  
"Just for you, Spike," she panted, "only for you!" she cried out as she neared orgasm.  
"Love you, love you!" Spike moaned, as her muscles tightened around him, as they crashed into each other, over and over again.  
  
"Spike, oh, oh, oh...Spike!...Buffy, God, Buffy!" they cried out together, to each other, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over them. 


	35. “WE’LL COME BACK HERE!”

CHAPTER 35 - "WE'LL COME BACK HERE!"  
  
Buffy raised her head to look at Spike, "That's really cheating," she said, grinning, "not that I'm complaining."  
  
He grinned back, "Yeah, guess it was. Tell you what, this time we both get dressed at the same time," he said, and kissed her once more.  
  
Laughing, she got off of Spike and they both got dressed.   
  
Taking her hand, they walked out into the living room and into the kitchen.  
  
Buffy threw out the old coffee and started another pot, and put the pan on the stove, while Spike beat some eggs and milk together, throwing in some cinnamon and nutmeg into the mix.  
  
A few minutes later, Spike added some oil to the hot pan, while Buffy set the table.   
  
Dipping the sourdough bread into the mixture, he started the French Toast, while Buffy set the table and poured them two cups of coffee and orange juice.   
  
Then remembering, Buffy went to the refrigerator and got out a bag of blood, "Got a pan for this?" she asked Spike.  
  
"Don't have to do that, I can drink it cold," he answered, "don't think heated blood would wash up too easily out of this old pan."  
  
"Nonsense!"   
  
He shrugged and reached for a pan.  
  
She filled it with water and put it on the stove next to the eggs and turned on the burner. Once it started bubbling, she put the bag of blood into the heated water.  
  
"Never thought of that!" he said, admiringly.  
  
"Used to baby-sit, back in L.A., before I was the Slayer. Just like warming up a bottle of milk."  
  
"Thanks!" he said, with mock indignation.  
  
"Just think of it as a pre-microwave way to warm up something," she said, patting Spike soothingly on the back.  
  
"Okay, okay," he ceded, "it'll work. Thanks."  
  
Spike finished the French Toast, and placed it on a platter, setting it on the table, while Buffy took the warmed blood off of the stove and poured it into another coffee mug.  
  
She put it down in front of his seat, as he finished bringing the powdered sugar, butter, and maple syrup to the table.  
  
Buffy then sat down and so did Spike.   
  
"Looks good," she said, as he placed a couple of pieces of French Toast on her plate.  
  
"Sorry we don't have any bacon this morning, ate it all yesterday," he said.  
  
"It's fine. This...it's fine. It's lovely," she said, looking at him.  
  
He looked at her across the table. Her hair was still all mussed up from their latest lovemaking and it made him smile.  
  
"What?" she asked, looking at him quizzically.  
  
"Nothing," he said, still smiling, "just you look so nice, so...happy."  
  
"Sure, I'm sure I look just great, after..." she said, putting her hands up to smooth down her hair, which she knew was a mess.  
  
She put her fork down, and reached across the table to take his hand, "But I am...happy. Truly happy, happier than I've been in a long time, maybe ever. I...this has been a wonderful weekend, Spike."  
  
"It has, hasn't it?" he asked, wonder in his voice, as he interlaced his fingers with hers.  
  
They sat staring at each other for another few minutes, lost in each other, in the feelings, the emotions, breakfast and everything else forgotten.  
  
Spike was the one, who came back first, to the present, "Buffy?"  
  
"Huh?" she said, staring at him, as if it were the first time.  
  
"Better eat, luv, it's gonna get cold," he said, gently unlacing his fingers from hers.  
  
"Okay," she said, looking back toward her place, rather shyly, it appeared, but really to get a grip on the strong emotions that threatened to overtake her.   
  
"This is really good," Buffy said, concentrating on chewing her Sourdough-French Toast, "like what you did to the batter."  
  
"My mum used to make it this way," Spike said, "just remembered it when I started it, haven't had it this way in...about 100 years."   
  
"Sourdough bread, too?"   
  
"No, don't think so, but bread back then did use to be a lot hardier that the crap they sell now-a-days," Spike answered.  
  
She nodded. For a vampire, he sure seemed to keep up on current trends. She smiled to herself.  
  
They finished eating, making small talk about food, places, and people.  
  
Buffy put her fork down, "Well, once again, I've overfed at the trough of William Worthington!"  
  
Spike laughed, "That's because William Worthington keeps working up Miss Elizabeth's appetite!" he said, a slow, sexy smile spreading over his face.  
  
"Indeed, he does," Buffy agreed, fanning herself in mock embarrassment, using one of the restaurant napkins that had been sent along.  
  
They cleaned up the breakfast dishes, Spike washing and Buffy drying.  
  
"Where do they go?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Just leave 'em in the drainer, Buffy," Spike said, but Buffy shook her head no.  
  
He looked at her, then nodded.  
  
"Dishes go up here, cups in that one," he said motioning with his head, "and silverware in the drawer next to the stove," he told her understanding that she was putting things back the way they were, before they had come here.   
  
"Okay," she said, trying to keep her voice sounding cheery.  
  
They finished up stood facing each other in the middle of the kitchen.  
  
Spike held out his hands to Buffy and she took them, letting herself be pulled in close.  
  
He kissed her softly, as her arms went around his neck; his arms went around her waist.  
  
"Love you," she whispered.  
  
"Love you, too," he said, as he continued kissing her lips, her neck, her ear.  
  
He pulled back and looked at her, "What do you want to do, today?" he asked.  
  
"Besides this?" she asked, "you mean there's something else? Other than this?" she joked.  
  
"Wouldn't know it by us, would ya?"  
  
She shook her head no, giggling.  
  
Spike glanced out the window, "Look," he said pointing, "starting to snow again."  
  
Buffy smiled, "I'm glad, looked at Snowman Spike a little earlier and he was beginning to show some wear and tear."  
  
"Walk?"  
  
"Yeah, let's," she said, kissing him.  
  
They went off to get dressed and Spike checked in quickly with home.  
  
"Ready?" Spike called out.  
  
"Ready," Buffy said, as she hurried back into the kitchen, pulling on her gloves.  
  
Spike reached over and buttoned one more button on her coat, "Don't want you to catch your death..." he stopped at the not so funny joke.  
  
"Thank you," she said.  
  
They walked out through the porch and Buffy stopped to fix-up Snowman Spike, first.   
  
"Snowman Spike is a high maintenance kind of guy," Buffy said.  
  
"Like his namesake?" Spike asked.  
  
She put the finishing touches back on his face, having smoothed his middle, added to his bottom, and reinserted his fangs, "Wouldn't have it any other way," she answered, tossing a snowball in his direction.  
  
"Oh, you don't want to get me started, Slayer!" he threatened.  
  
"Oh, don't I?" she said lobbing another one at him, then taking off running toward the woods.  
  
Spike laughed and took off after her; "You're dead now!"  
  
"Gotta catch me first, Spike," she yelled, looking back.  
  
She stopped, "Where'd he go?"  
  
She turned and was surprised by Spike standing there in front of her, "Vampire, you know! Super speed, when needed."  
  
She laughed, "Yeah, forgot. Well, super-speed this," she said, pushing him back and onto his bottom as she took off again.  
  
He soon caught up with her, the old fashioned way and tackled her from behind. They rolled onto the ground laughing and trying to mash snow into each other's faces, until laughing eyes turned serious and their lips found one another's once more.   
  
"Spike," she murmured between kisses.  
  
He felt his face get wet and looked at her. She was crying.  
  
"Now, luv, what's this?"  
  
"Oh, Spike, I'm going to miss you so much," Buffy said, sniffling.  
  
"Don't have to miss me, Buffy, I'm not going anywhere, not leaving your side, you know that, pet," he said, looking into her eyes, wiping her tears away.  
  
"I'll miss you. Miss knowing you here, it's so easy here, easy to love, easy to be happy, hell...it's even easy to be me! A me I didn't even know was me!"  
  
"Buffy!" Spike said, seriously, pulling her up until they were both sitting, "I promise you, you will come back here, we both will! Please believe me, okay?"  
  
She looked at him, his face so sincere and for that moment, she could almost believe him; did believe him. She nodded, "I believe you."  
  
"Say it!" he commanded, "say we'll come back here!"  
  
"We'll come back here," she whispered.  
  
"Say it like you mean it!"  
  
"We'll come back here!" she said, louder.  
  
"Again!"  
  
"We'll come back here!"  
  
"Louder!"  
  
"WE'LL COME BACK HERE!" she shouted as loud as she could.  
  
"AGAIN!" he said, pulling her up.  
  
"WE'LL COME BACK HERE!" he shouted right along with her this time.  
  
"That's better!" he said, nodded and kissed her on the mouth.  
  
He took her hand then, and they continued up the path.  
  
About half an hour later, Buffy said, "I know where this is!" she said, and letting go of Spike's hand, she walked over to a cherished landmark, "Hello, Tree, old friend," she said, giving it a pat.  
  
Spike pulled a knife out of his boot and walked over to the backside of the tree.  
  
"Don't hurt it!" Buffy said.   
  
"I won't, I wouldn't, just a little decorating," he said, as he started working on something.  
  
"Hey, no peeking," he told her, when she tried to see what he was doing.  
  
She stopped, and just stood on the path, imagining the picture Spike had drawn of he woman's body, shadowed on the tree, and smiled at the boot he'd put on the ground.  
  
"Okay, you can look now," he told her, as he stepped back.   
  
She went around to where he was. He had carved a heart into the bark and it said,   
"W Loves E."  
  
She smiled at him, "I don't think I've ever had anyone ever carve declarations of love to me in anything before!" she said, "thank you."  
  
He smiled back at her and looked admiringly at his handiwork. He then bent down and picked up some of the bark he had to strip from the tree. He handed them to her, "A memento, " he said.  
  
She put them into her jacket, patting the pocket, "A piece of tree," she said, then inspired, "a piece of thee!" she added.  
  
"Gahhh!" Spike snorted, rolling his eyes.  
  
"What? Don't I sound like the Bard?"  
  
"Oh yeah, you sure do!"  
  
She giggled, and taking his hand, pulled him toward her for a soft, lingering kiss.  
  
"Now that's poetry!" he said, kissing her back.  
  
"Then I should publish it, right? Do public readings, perhaps?" she asked, teasingly, between kisses.  
  
"Better not, missy! You're my poetry, mine only, understand?" he said, kissing her harder.  
  
"Yours, lover, only yours, Spike," she agreed.  
  
He broke off the kiss and yelled, "WE'LL COME BACK HERE!" and she joined in, until their voices echoed throughout the woods. 


	36. LUNCH

CHAPTER 36 - LUNCH  
  
They walked back to the house in mostly silence, holding hands. As they walked past Snowman Spike, Buffy gave him a pat, smiling.  
  
Spike smiled at her.  
  
As they entered the porch they smelled it - food.  
  
They walked into the kitchen to see Clem at the stove, "Hey there, guys!" he said.  
  
"Hey yourself," Buffy said.  
  
"Thought you guys were already gone until I saw the car, so I knocked and when nobody answered, thought I'd come in and fix some lunch," Clem said, looking at Spike and Buffy, "hope that's alright."  
  
"No problem," Spike said, "and thanks," he added.  
  
"Smells good, what is it?" Buffy asked, "and don't tell me it's Bear in Yak Urine Sauce, either!" she joked.  
  
"No, next time I'll make that! This is some Turkey Stew I threw together from some stuff that was in the 'fridge," Clem said.  
  
Spike took off his jacket, and helped Buffy off with her jacket and boots.  
  
Buffy noticed there were only two places set for lunch, "Aren't you eating with us, Clem?" she asked.  
  
"Nah...you guys should eat by yourselves," Clem answered, as he came over to the table with two bowls of soup, "besides, had a big breakfast, don't need any more calories," he shook his arms and they jiggled.  
  
"Come on Clem, why don't you join us?" she asked, looking at Spike.  
  
"Er, yeah, mate, you should sit down and have a bowl with us," Spike said.  
  
"Well, if you're sure you don't mind..." Clem said, hesitantly.  
  
"We're sure!" Buffy and Spike answered together.   
  
"Okey-dokey, then," Clem said, and poured himself a bowl, got himself a tablespoon, and plopped down on an extra chair Spike had gotten him from the living room.  
  
"Ummm, this is good Clem!" Buffy said, "you should come over and teach Andrew how to cook like this!"  
  
"I could do that," Clem said, smiling, agreeably.  
  
Spike gave him a quick glance, and Clem stopped with his spoon in mid-air for half a second, and gave him a small nod.  
  
Buffy barely caught it, but she did.  
  
"What?" she asked, looking back and forth between Clem and Spike.  
  
"Um...I won't be able to do that, Buffy. Not now, anyway," Clem said, sadly.  
  
"Why not Clem?" she asked, still looking at them both.  
  
"Er...um...I'm not going back. To Sunnydale...for now," he said and nodded toward Spike.  
  
Spike looked at Buffy, "I told Clem he shouldn't come back...for now," he said.  
  
Buffy just looked at both of them as reality crashed down on her head. Shaking herself out of her thoughts after a couple of seconds, she said, "You're right. Of course. You shouldn't come back...for now," then added, "maybe another time, after..."  
  
"Sure Buffy, I'd love to," Clem said.  
  
He looked at them sadly, "Why don't you guys just stay here with me? I'll go get the others, they can all come up here, can't they?"  
  
Buffy shook her head, "I wish it were that simple, Clem, I'd love to stay here, bring everybody I love here, keep them safe, but it doesn't work that way..." she said, sadly.  
  
"Why Buffy, why can't you just stay here?" Clem asked again, a pleading look in his eyes.  
  
"You know why, Clem, I know you do," she said, "because it's my job, my calling to fight The First. If I don't who will? Do you think we'd be safe here if I don't fight him? This is the original evil we're talking of here, not just some bad-ass demon."  
  
"I know Buffy, I know," Clem said, his eyes getting all teary.  
  
Spike hadn't said anything, but took Buffy's hand under the table, giving it a squeeze.  
  
He cleared his throat, "Gonna fight, gonna win...for all the puppies...and the rest of us, too..." he said, looking at Buffy and Clem, as he tried to make a half-hearted joke.  
  
They nodded and went back to eating their stew in silence.   
  
After lunch, Spike got up and poured them all the remainder of the last bottle of champagne and they toasted, "To puppies," Spike said, "and the rest of us," he added.  
  
They drank and then Clem got up, "Well, guess I'd better be going. I'll take care of what you asked me to, Spike," he said.  
  
Spike nodded, and Buffy looked at them questioningly.  
  
"Just to close up the place...for now, stuff..." he said to her.  
  
"Oh," she said, letting it drop.  
  
"Guys want me to clean up before I go?" Clem asked.  
  
"That's alright," Spike answered.  
  
"Then I'll do it later, ok?"  
  
"Okay," Spike said, nodding.  
  
They walked Clem to the front door.   
  
"Well, goodbye, you two," Clem said.  
  
"Bye, Clem," Buffy said, "you're a good friend."  
  
Spike nodded, "Yeah, you take care, mate!"  
  
Clem grabbed them suddenly in his loose skinned arms and brought them together in a big hug, "You two take care now, you hear me?" he asked.  
  
Buffy and Spike nodded, as they couldn't much move anything other than their heads in his strong grip, but Spike felt the lock box inside of Clem's shirt.  
  
And then he was gone, out the door in a flash of speed Buffy had never seen from him before.  
  
Spike slowly closed the door, watching his friend's back, as he ran up the trail.  
  
He turned around and took Buffy in his arms and held her tight. 


	37. LIKE OLD MARRIEDS

CHAPTER 37 - LIKE OLD MARRIEDS  
  
"What time is it?" she asked Spike, looking out at the sun, which now seemed to be low in the sky.  
  
"Dunno, pet," he answered.  
  
"Oh, bugger it!" he exclaimed, suddenly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Suppose we ought to check with home anyway," Spike said, going to get the phone and modem.  
  
She walked over to the couch and sat down as Spike dialed up.   
  
"It's three-thirty," he said, handing her the laptop.  
  
"Already?" she asked, surprised the day had gone by so quickly.  
  
"Yeah," he answered, sadly, as he put his arm around her.  
  
She took the laptop and looked at all the different live-cam scenes. She laughed at Andrew when the camera spotted him, trying to hide something in the back of the freezer.   
  
Spike looked over her shoulder and snorted, "Wanker!"  
  
"Poor Andrew, a fish out of water," she said.  
  
"Yeah, he's a fish out of something alright!"  
  
"I know," Buffy said, "A Fish Called Andrew!"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"Oh, there's Willow!" Bufff said.  
  
Wicca 1: Buffy?  
Slayer 1: hi, Will  
Wicca 1: what's up?  
Slayer 1: just finished lunch  
Wicca1: late lunch  
Slayer1: had a late breakfast, too  
Wicca 1: slept in late, huh?  
Slayer 1: needed my beauty rest  
Wicca 1: I bet...  
Slayer 1: no comment...  
Wicca 1: is your beauty rest named Spike, by any chance  
Slayer 1: might be  
Wicca 1: ROTF  
Slayer 1: STOP!  
Wicca 1: ok, ok...   
Wicca 1: "Oh Spike, I love your wicked energy"  
  
Spike was reading over his shoulder, shaking his head, "Tell Red, I'm going to do more than snark at her if she doesn't quit!"  
  
Slayer 1: Spike says hello and that he's going to bite you  
Wicca1: tell him I'm so scared. Hi Big Bad!  
  
Spike turned away, "Glad to know I'm so scary."  
  
Buffy patted his arm, "You are honey, Willow's just having fun."  
  
"Yeah, well, she won't be having fun, when I decide to have her for lunch tomorrow!" Spike said, indignantly.  
  
Buffy turned back to the screen.  
  
Slayer1: Is Xander there?  
Wicca1: yeah, want to talk to him  
Slayer1: please  
  
She waited a few minutes until Xander came on.  
  
Carpenter1: hey Buff, how's it goin'?  
Slayer1: great! what about you?  
Carpenter1: fine, all quiet, that's a good thing  
Carpenter1: how's vamp boy treating you  
Slayer1: really well, no worries, okay?  
  
"Carpenter1? he should call himself 'Whelp1'," Spike snickered.  
  
"Spike!" Buffy said, defending her friend and elbowing him hard in the side.  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
Slayer1: Spike says to tell you hello  
Carpenter1: yeah, sure he does, tell him I also don't say to tell him hello  
  
Spike laughed and Buffy just shook her head.  
  
Carpenter1: what's up?  
Slayer1: need you to do a favor, big favor  
Carpenter1: sure, what?  
Slayer1: need you to take on some roomies  
Carpenter1: who? whom? how many?  
Slayer: about 4 or 5, same number of girls sleeping on my bedroom floor  
  
Slayer1: Xander?  
Carpenter1: sure, but can I ask you why?  
Slayer1: because I need to have my life working for me, in order to do my job  
Carpenter1: SPIKE? and Spike's a part of that plan?  
Slayer1: yes, in part, a big part  
Carpenter1: BUFFY! NO!  
  
"That Whelp! Who does he think he is?" Spike asked angrily, "I'd like to once just give him a good thrashing!  
  
"Stop! Not helping. You know he's just looking out for me, however, misdirected that is at times," Buffy said, trying to diffuse him.  
  
Spike laughed bitterly, but he knew she was telling the truth, just the Whelp and Giles never, ever cut him a break, no matter what he'd done.  
  
Suddenly he stopped and turned to her, "You want me to sleep in your bedroom with you when we go back?" he asked, stunned.  
  
"What did you think? That I was going to make you sleep in the basement, pretend that this," she motioned to them both, "never happened?"  
  
Spike shrugged, "Didn't know if you'd think it was best, luv, that's all," he said, his heart swelling, as he realized what a step this was for Buffy to take. Not only to have trusted him this weekend, given him all her love; but for her to take their relationship back to Sunnydale, back to the cold, hard reality of not only the fight, but the scrutiny and surely the disdain of those that were closest to her.  
"Willow, do you see that?" Xander said, "she wants me to take some of the girls to my place so she can move vamp-boy into her bedroom. Can't believe she would ever let him do that, be with him again..." he went on, just as Giles entered the room.  
  
Giles walked over to the computer screen just as Buffy's message appeared.  
  
Slayer1: YES! and I can't, won't apologize for that, for Spike, for loving him anymore! I do love Spike, I know that now and I'm sorry if that hurts you or disturbs you or Giles or anyone else, I really am, AND I know where your concern is coming from, but it's NOT valid anymore   
Carpenter1: how can you be sure?  
Slayer1: because I am, and that's what counts!  
Carpenter1: I see  
Slayer1: will you do this favor for me?  
Carpenter: sure, whatever  
  
Xander got up with disgust from the computer, "I don't understand her," he complained to Giles.  
  
"I knew this was a bad idea," Giles said, glaring at Willow.  
  
Slayer1: Xander?  
Wicca1: he's gone Buffy  
Slayer1: I see  
Wicca1: if it's any consolation, I support you Buffy  
Slayer1: thanks, Will  
Wicca1: if you love Spike and he loves you, then I don't see why you two shouldn't be together, why wouldn't you?  
Slayer1: I can't think of any good reasons   
  
Buffy looked at Spike, who seemed to be staring off toward the fireplace, deep in thought.  
  
He looked over at her, then at the screen, "You're amazing, do you know that, my heart?" he said, his voice full of emotion.  
  
She looked at him, staring at her with all this limitless love that she'd denied existed, denied herself, denied feeling back, and was filled with regret that it had taken them, her especially, so long to come to this point.   
  
Slayer1: I'll see you later Willow, and thanks, you're the only one there who seems to understand  
Wicca1: I do, I know what it feels like to be in love, think there are others who will support you, too  
Slayer1: it would be nice, but if not, I'll survive, always do  
Slayer1: bye, Will, see you tonight  
Wicca1: bye Buffy, see you soon  
  
Willow logged off the computer.  
  
"I don't know how you can support, even encourage Buffy in this 'relationship,' with Spike!" Giles said, angrily.  
  
"Number one, Giles," Willow said, cooly, "I didn't encourage anything, but I do support whatever 'personal,' decisions Buffy makes about her lovelife, even if it's with Spike! He's not evil anymore, but you guys just won't see that," she turned around, looking accusingly at both Xander and Giles.  
  
"Numbe two," she continued, "I can't see how you won't support her. If she's happy, even for a while, why can't you just be happy for her? Doesn't she deserve this little; this much?" Willow asked.  
  
"I'll do whatever Buffy asks, Willow, you know I will," Xander said, "but if Spike ever hurts her or anyone else here, then I....well, I just wouldn't be surprised is all."  
  
"That's all she's asking, is that you give him a chance, a little trust. I think Spike's earned it, even when he was killing again, it wasn't him, it was The First triggering him."  
  
"And how do we know that's not going to happen again?" Giles asked, "instead of sleeping chained up, like he should until we figure this thing out, he'll be sleeping right with Buffy, able to kill her in her sleep!"  
  
Xander shuddered.  
  
"I don't think that will happen. If he get's triggered again, we'll deal, Buffy will deal, as painful as that may be, she will do what's right, you know she will, Giles!" Willow said.  
  
"I hope so, Willow, I hope she will be able to do what she has to, if it comes down to that," Giles said, shaking his head.  
  
"She will, Giles, she will. In the meantime, it wouldn't hurt you guys, and it would help decrease the stress Buffy already feels; already felt before she almost got killed the other night, if you guys just accept this. Otherwise, all you'll do is create a rift between all of you and what 'greater good' purpose would that serve?" she asked, accusingly, looking at Giles.  
Buffy handed the computer and phone to Spike and he shut them down.  
  
"Maybe it isn't such a good idea for me to sleep in your bed, Buffy. What if The First does decide to trigger me, again, right when I'm there with you? Maybe that's when he'll decide that it's time for me," Spike said.  
  
Buffy shrugged, "I don't know, Spike. I guess we'll take it a day at a time. In any case, I need to know that you can come to me at night, if you want, if I want. And I do want you, Spike, need you with me, need your love, your strength..." she said, looking at him.  
  
"You know I'm yours, Buffy," Spike said, "anytime, anywhere, forever."  
  
He hesitated, "But Buffy, you know things will be different when we go back, luv," Spike said.  
  
Buffy nodded, "Yeah, I'll have to be General Buffy. Might even have to bust your chops, again," she said, regretfully.  
  
"You do what you have to do," Spike said, "and if that happens, I'll understand that it's your job, your calling, that makes it necessary; and, if you don't want me in your bed one night, or any nights...well, I still have the cot downstairs, right?" Spike asked.  
  
Buffy kissed his neck, "Don't want to fight with you again, Spike, ever! Not saying we never will, but it will never mean that I don't love you, that I won't continue to love you...always. Do you understand that Spike?" Buffy asked, looking at him.  
  
He nodded, "Yes, I do, Buffy. It means that we're a couple, just like old marrieds, and sometimes we'll fight, but unlike old marrieds, we get to make love and make-up," he said, venturing a smile.  
  
Relived, she nodded her agreement, as she melted once more into his hard body and softest heart, and allowed him to carry her into the bedroom for that make love and pre-make-up he was talking about.  
  
Their pleasure was no less great, for the fact that this time, they made love gently to each other; as if it were their first time, instead of their last, in this house...for now.   
  
Afterward, they lay in each other's arms, looking at each other, stroking each other's faces, running their fingers through each others hair, and rubbing each other's backs, in mutual giving and receiving. Their hands, once again, came together over the necklace, tracing the lovebirds that symbolized their feelings for each other. 


	38. FACING FORWARD AND THE FUTURE

CHAPTER 38 - FACING FORWARD AND THE FUTURE  
  
It was dusk when they finally, without words, got up and dressed.   
  
Buffy went to her 'room' to pack her things that were partly, still there.   
  
Spike went around, picking up odds and ends, putting glasses in the sink, straightening his desk, making sure the fireplace was out. He knew Clem would be over later or tomorrow to close up the house, but he still felt a responsibility to do these things, a need to have a claim to this house, which he would, now and forever, always feel differently about.   
  
Buffy took the all the drawings, except for one, that Spike had drawn and put them carefully in between a magazine cover she had brought with her. She then carefully put them on the bottom of her suitcase, clothes on top. Silently, she thanked her mom for having bought her one good piece of hard luggage years ago.  
  
She went into Spike's bedroom and placed the picture of her sleeping; a serene look on her face, naked, necklace between her breasts, on her pillow.   
  
She then took the purple velvet box and opened it. She carefully took off the necklace, lovingly giving it a kiss. With tears in her eyes, she gently placed it inside the box and closed the lid, putting it between their pillows.   
  
She walked to the bedroom door, "We'll come back here!" she whispered as took one, last, look back.  
  
Spike was waiting for her near the door, "You ready?" he asked her?  
  
She nodded, starting to get her coat.  
  
All of a sudden, his hand went up to her neck; a hurt look filled his eyes.  
  
"Why?" he said, pain in his voice.  
  
Tears sprang to her eyes, "I can't, can't take it with me! Don't you see? If I do and it gets torn from me in a fight, or lost in the house..."  
  
She put her arms around Spike, "I love that necklace, Spike, I love it! Love that YOU gave it to me, love what it stands for, I just can't bear to see it hurt..." she said, crying into his neck, "can't stand for it to be any less than it is now!"  
  
He hugged her back, hard, "I'm sorry, luv! I understand, really I do, it's just when I saw you without it...I'm such a ponce, sometimes!" he said, trying to smile.  
  
"Spike, I want my necklace back!" Buffy said, "and when, not if, but when I come back here, I'm going to put that necklace back on and I'm never, ever going to take it off again!"  
  
"God, I love you so much, Buffy," Spike said, a lump rising in his throat.   
  
He then took a step away, and bent down, taking something out of his backpack.  
  
"No, you don't have to do that!" Buffy cried, when she saw what he had in his hand.  
  
"No, you're right, these things are too precious to take back...for now. They belong here, together...until we come back for them, together!" he said, holding the Complete Works of Shakespeare book she had given him.  
  
She just shook her head, crying.  
  
"Now, now, none of that," he said, soothingly to her, "where'd you put it?" he asked.  
  
She walked over to Spike's bedroom, as he followed her.  
  
He walked over to the bed, a lump rising in his throat as he saw the drawing of her on her pillow. He carefully lifted the purple velvet box up and placed the book underneath it.  
  
He turned back to see her framed in the door and nodded.  
  
Spike walked up to her and gently kissing her, "We'll come back here!" he said.  
  
Buffy nodded, "We'll come back here!" she repeated.  
  
He took her hand, and they walked back to the door. He picked up her luggage and his and they went out into the night.  
  
As they drove off, she turned around and took one last look back at the house; "We'll come back here!" she said to herself, then turned around, facing forward and the future.  
  
THE END...FOR NOW - (updated on 01/19/04 see below for sequel )  
  
Thank you all so much for reading my story. I've appreciated all your feedback and patience in waiting while I finished this.  
  
I love the characters of Buffy and Spike, if you haven't already guessed, and I am planning on doing a sequel to this story, once they series has ended *gulp, gulp*  
  
I know that these characters want a place where they can be themselves and lead somewhat of a normal life, what better place, than this wonderful house, that William built in Julian?  
  
So, stay tuned, no matter what happens in Jossverse, I'll figure a way for them to find their way back to the house and each other.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Serene (aka spikealicious)  
  
01/19/04  
  
Well, there was an sequel to this story on ff.net, but for some reason that I'm not obviously to know...they yanked the story off last week without as much as a decent explanation.   
  
I know plenty of people who were reading this went ahead and started the sequel, and some are already on my mailing list. Some already know where to find the sequel called ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES. However, if you're a first time reader you may not.   
  
Go to the top of the page and click on my name. That will take you to a page about me, and a link to my website. spikealicious.com  
  
Synopsis is that Spike comes back human 5 years later, but with only memories of 1880 and prior. In the meantime, Buffy has made a normal life for herself, moving into the house in Julian after defeating the first. As always....Joss's characters, I just take them on a different sort of journey. 


End file.
